


Two To Tango, Four To Fear

by insanechayne



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Bitch makes another appearence, Canon divergence and lots of it, F/M, M/M, OC Torrey Marie White
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanechayne/pseuds/insanechayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor and Murphy aren't too sure about the young woman who approaches them, asking to join their regime, but they give her a chance anyway. Soon enough they become attached to her in ways they never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One For The Money

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so for Halloween I'm going to be Connor MacManus, and Monica is going as Murphy, and Ricardo is going as Rocco/Romeo. So what I did was watch The Boondock Saints for the 18th time last night, just to prepare. And all of a sudden I got this great idea for a fic, this fic, in which my personal OC character, Torrey Marie White, joins the boys' mission.   
> So yeah, there's going to be a shit ton of canon divergence, though I'm pretty sure Da will still die. But maybe not, I don't know.   
> This starts after the courtroom shooting, and I'll figure everything else out from there. Probably going to try and bridge the gap between the first and second movie, too. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

The girl standing before them couldn’t have been more than twenty-four years old, but the look in her eyes was hardened, a force to be reckoned with in itself. Her bright red hair fanned around her face, ending in soft curls that spiraled beautifully over her shoulders, a copper waterfall ending somewhere around the area her breasts began, and both brothers had to keep themselves from staring, both at her hair and at her breasts.

Her face had been carved by angels. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, giving definition to the hollows beneath them. Her jaw was angular, yet sleek, pointing into a small chin and flowing down into an almost swan-like neck. Her eyes were wide and bright, green as emeralds with a ring of pure gold around the middle of the pupils, and her gaze was captivating, a thing of beauty that you didn’t dare look away from. And those lips; they were lush, smooth, a delicate shade of pearly pink, and right now they were curved into a smirk.

More impressive than her looks had been her entrance. After the courtroom shooting ended and all the other people had fled, screaming, out of every possible exit, she had emerged from a back row seat in the balcony area, the expression on her face unreadable. She had leaned over the banister, folding her arms over the railing, and contemplated them. She didn’t speak, and neither did they; they merely stared at each other, their eyes focused on her, her eyes seeming to be focused on all of them at once.

And then she had done the strangest thing. Instead of leaving the courtroom like the others had done, she swung her right leg over the banister, her hands firmly gripping the wood railing with long, elegant fingers. She gripped the vertical bars connecting the bottom of the railing to the top, and then pushed off the ground with her left foot, the rest of her body swinging over the railing.

The twins dashed forward, ready to catch her, but she didn’t need their assistance. Her grip on the wood posts was steady, her upper-body strength rather surprising. She wiggled her foot in an odd sort of gesture, though both boys took it for what it was: a signal to get the hell out of the way. And then she just let go of the posts.

She bent her knees slightly, connecting with the floor on the balls of her feet and heels, and then instantly ducked and rolled forward, becoming nothing more than a blur of red hair and black clothing. She ended in a crouch, one knee bent to the floor, the other bent toward her chest, its foot firmly planted on the ground and her arm resting on it almost casually.

She straightened out, taking a second to brush herself off, and then turned to face them, taking all three men by shock. That’s when they noticed how pretty she was, how tightly her black tanktop hugged her breasts, how her lips had curved into that sultry smirk.

She approached them casually, still studying them, her green eyes flashing something that was could only be described as dangerous. But danger had always intrigued the brothers, and they stepped forward to meet her.

“Who might you be, miss?” Connor asked, his head tilting just slightly to the side as he tried to anticipate her reaction, or lack thereof.

“Name’s Torrey. Torrey Marie White, to be more exact. And yourselves?” Her hands slipped into the front pockets of her jeans, making her stance just that much more casual, though it did nothing to put the twins more at ease.

Connor and Murphy exchanged a glance, unsure whether or not to trust the girl in front of them. Finally, Connor spoke for them. “We’re the Saints.”

Torrey laughed lightly, her voice sounding like wind chimes. “Yeah, I know that. I meant your individual names.”

Another glance shared, the two pairs of blue eyes silently communicating before turning back to Torrey and remaining silent.

She raised an eyebrow at them, waiting a painfully awkward minute for them to talk. Realizing that they wouldn’t, though, she spoke up. “I guess you’re not about to treat me with any kind of courtesy until I explain myself. Well, to shorten the story by a mile, I want to join you guys. You do good work, work that I could only ever dream about, and the normal world has no place for me.”

More silence flooded around them. Torrey watched the twins deliberate with a calm outward demeanor, but inward her heart was racing to beat the devil, and her stomach was in knots. How did you go up to three all too famous killers and just ask them to let you into their crew? She didn’t really know how she managed to stick around long enough to even get a good look at them, she’d been so nervous hiding in the back of the courtroom like that.

Torrey had attended the trial with hope in her heart, hope that these men would show up and give her a chance with them. She’d had no idea if they would even come around, but she’d been determined to sit through the whole day’s worth of questions and accusations and recesses just in case. And, wouldn’t you know, she’d gotten lucky. That alone was enough to shove her in the right direction and help her get over her anxieties. God was showing her that she was on the right path; that’s why they’d come into the trial today, and that’s why she was getting her chance now, and damn if she wasn’t going to make the most of it.

“You ever killed anyone before?” Murphy spoke up this time, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Torrey fixed her gaze on him, her stare hardening into nothing short of stone. “Yeah, I have. Some asshole started beating on my best friend after they’d been together for a couple months. First time she came around with a black eye, claiming to have walked into a door, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Second time it wasn’t just a black eye, it was a broken nose and a bruised jaw. She begged me not to hurt him, saying they were over and he was leaving town. A week later she was in the hospital; she still hasn’t roused from the coma. So I took care of the problem.”

Murphy turned his gaze to the floor, unable to meet the pain and anger in her eyes any longer. Connor looked back at Noah, who nodded, taking a step toward Torrey, moving between the brothers.

“I’m sorry about your friend, dear, but please, tell us what ye did to the man.” Noah removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the pocket of his coat, meeting the girl’s gaze full-on; she respected him all the more for that.

“I snuck in while he was asleep, kept him knocked out by gently pressing a rag full of chloroform to his face, and tied him down to the bed. When he finally woke up he started panicking, screaming for help. I told him to shut the fuck up, because no one would hear him.

“When he saw me standing there at the foot of the bed he actually started to chuckle a little bit. Called me a “cocksucking cunt”, and a few other choice names, which I didn’t take all too kindly to. A few rounds with my brass knuckles broke his jaw so that he couldn’t talk anymore.

“By the time I got bored of the brass knuckles his left eye was swollen shut, his nose was broken, and he’d drooled some of his teeth out on a tidal wave of blood. His other eye was leaking tears; little bitch couldn’t take a beating.

“I pulled a picture of my best friend out of my pocket, held it in front of his good eye, and the realization suddenly hit him pretty hard. I explained that I was going to kill him for what he did to her, for hurting her and putting her in a coma.” Her eyes flickered from Noah’s still steady gaze to the men flanking his sides. Their faces were expressionless, but there was something raging in their eyes, something that made it clear they were impressed.

“Perhaps I should let the story end there. I don’t know if you boys could handle the rest of it.” The smirk was back on her face, but it didn’t meet her eyes, and that sent a shiver of something akin to fear up the twins’ spines.

“We can handle it.” Murphy blurted out, his tone hushed near to a whisper.

“Yeah, go on.” Connor nodded once, his eyes widening in sudden excitement.

Torrey giggled once, something more of a snort than anything else. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Alright, so I cut the guy’s dick off, slowly, using a rusty steak knife. It took almost twenty minutes for me to saw through that thing, even with how small it was. By that time he’d started screaming, even though his mouth was nearly swollen shut. I then took great pleasure in pulling his mouth open and shoving his dick so far down his throat he nearly swallowed it. He died choking on it.”

The brothers both unconsciously touched at their groins, their hands shifting to cover the middle of their jeans. Torrey noted the action, but chose not to acknowledge it.

“I assume he’s been found already, and that they’ll soon figure out it was me. So now I’m on the run, and I always will be, whether or not you allow me to be a part of your regime. I just figured that, since I can never go back home anyway, I could use my newfound fugitive title to do some good and rid the world of more evil pieces of shit like him.”

Noah was smiling, something tight-lipped but nonetheless pleased. “I think we could use skills like yours, young lady. That is, if my boys agree.” He looked from Connor to Murphy and back again.

The twins looked at each other around Noah’s shoulders, sharing a nod. They both grinned as they turned back to Torrey.

Murphy was the one to speak up, holding his hand out to Torrey. She placed her hand in his, expecting him to just shake it like one would with any other business partner, but he lifted it to his face, his lips brushing the back of it with a gentle kiss that caused Torrey to blush a soft pink that matched her lips.

“Looks like we got ourselves a new fuckin’ recruit.”


	2. Crossing Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out longer than I thought it would, and it took me only about 30-40 minutes to write, which is pretty good for me. So I'm pretty pleased with it. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

“How far we gonna take this, Da?” Connor asked from his position on one of the full-sized beds in their tiny hotel room. He was resting on his right side, his back to the door, his face showing some odd form of worry in its features.

Murphy, sitting with his back against the headboard of the other bed, glanced between Connor and Da, his eyes sparking with that same worry etched over his brother’s features. He toyed with his fingers, picking at a hangnail on his thumb, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

Da took a puff from his cigar before resting his arm on his leg, leaning forward slightly as he exhaled the smoke, as if by moving closer to his boys he could make them understand what he was about to say with more clarity. “The question is not how far. The question is do you possess the constitution, the depth of faith, to go as far as is needed?” He leaned back in the chair, taking another hit from the cigar clenched lazily between his fingers; he seemed to be the only one calm about this whole situation.

Torrey lurked in the shadows beside the bathroom and the front door, hidden mostly from the twins’ view. She felt almost like she was intruding on some private family matter, but there was no other place for her to go. She was both a part of this conversation and separate from it, and maybe that made things a little easier for her, because she didn’t exactly feel like speaking right now. Maybe it was her nervousness finally catching up to her, or maybe she was having second thoughts; either way her stomach was in knots.

Noah’s eyes flickered over to her once, silently asking her the same question. This would be her only chance to back out if she couldn’t step up to the plate. He would let her leave without another word, would hold his boys back from trying to convince her or force her into staying, but she had to make that decision now. Once they were on the run, once they were killing evil men again, she would have no choice but to stay.

She returned his gaze, liquid emerald meeting ice blue, and held it while she contemplated. Sure, she could leave, forget this whole thing ever happened. She could go back to her normal life and pretend she’d never met the Saints, pretend she was just another person who agreed with their point of view instead of someone who almost fell into step beside them. But then, she’d probably be thrown in jail because she had defended her best friend. She had already done the same thing these men had done, though on a much smaller scale, and she would never regret it because she knew what she had done was right.

Going back to her old life meant giving up what she believed in. It meant trying to go into hiding on her own, alone and away from those she loved in order to leave no trace for the police to find. And that wasn’t a life she was prepared to carry out. She needed to have someone helping her in that situation, and these men had already agreed to that the second Murphy kissed her hand, Connor following suit, and Noah placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and given her a kind smile. They had even told her their names, their real names, and to leave now would to be to betray those confidences.

No, she was in this for the long haul now. She’d dived head-first into their mission, and she would have to learn to deal with those consequences. They would run, they would hide, they would travel frequently and not always under the best circumstances, and, yes, they would kill. But she was more than willing to wash her hands in the blood of the wicked as long as they were.

So she stared at Noah a while, her brain quick-firing through all of these thoughts, and came to her conclusion. The twins had noticed that their father’s gaze was elsewhere, their own eyes travelling to meet Torrey’s silhouette in the shadows. Their stares traced the outline of her hair, still burning bright even in the dimness of where she stood, like low burning embers in a fire; they watched her jaw clench and her eyes sparkle with newfound resolve; they watched her give their father a curt nod, an answer to a question they had not heard or seen communicated.

Noah seemed pleased by that nod, and he turned his attention to the ceiling, his head falling back against the chair as he took another deep drag off his halfway smoked cigar. In his mind the matter was settled; there was nothing more to discuss, only more to do, but it would be easier now with an extra person around. Perhaps she could even bring some light into the boys’ lives, which would be pretty bleak from then on. Perhaps she could make them smile or laugh or even love; Noah understood how important a woman’s love was to a young man, and he wouldn’t mind if the three of them ended up in some kind of mutual agreement with one another. But those were thoughts for another time, somewhere far down the road, not so late at night when they needed to rest for tomorrow.

The brothers shared a look, and they understood the question their Da had silently asked Torrey. He had given her an out, and she had refused it, and that made the twins respect the girl even more. Their eyes flickered to her once more, and this time she met their gazes. She smiled ruefully at them, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall, and gave them the same nod; they nodded back.

Without a word Connor got off his bed and moved over to Murphy’s, who scooted closer to the edge to give his brother room. They had shown their acceptance of her by offering her the other bed, and though the gesture was very simple it still made Torrey’s face flush with heat. Quietly, gratefully, she moved to the open bed and crawled under the covers. Once she was comfortable she turned to face the brothers, who were still watching her. She grinned before kissing her palm twice, then held her hand out flat to blow the kisses towards the boys. They couldn’t help but chuckle at her playful gesture of affection, and it made the atmosphere seem just that much lighter.

Noah smiled to himself at the scene before him, and snuffed out his cigar in the ashtray on the table, then reached over and turned out the light.


	3. Dignity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally intended to be much longer and have a lot more details to it, but I was too tired and lazy to try and stretch it out that much, and ended up cutting it short.   
> It's also kinda crappy, from my vantage point, but I wanted to have something with the boys interacting with Torrey when they all feel a little more comfortable with each other, and I think I portrayed that aspect well thus far.   
> So please enjoy, kiddies.

Noah woke before the dawn broke, his body cramped painfully from being in a sitting position all night. He took a moment to stretch himself out, groaning softly, taking in the darkness that still lingered in their room.

Connor and Murphy’s light snores took away the silence, but the sound of their sleep was somehow calming, something to take solace in. They were still alive, and the snores proved it, and that was something to be grateful for. They were on their sides, facing each other, their foreheads and bent knees pressed together, much like they’d been in the womb. Noah could still remember the ultrasound, could still clearly see the image of his two unborn boys cuddling into each other. They had needed each other for comfort even before they were born, and that trait had come through into life.

Torrey didn’t snore, but she did sleep with her feet poking out from under the blankets, her hair like flames engulfing her pillow. Where the boys had to curl into each other to stay on the bed she could spread out; one leg was raised up toward her waist, its foot dangling off the edge of the bed, one arm under her pillow to support her head while the other clutched tightly at the blankets, as if she were trying to cuddle them for comfort. Her face was smooth, yet somehow still tense and worried, and Noah wondered what she could be dreaming about to bring such an odd look to her features.

Noah wished he could let the trio sleep a little while longer, even if only for another hour or two, because he knew they would probably never get a chance to rest as much again, but he knew that they had too many things to do and too little time in which to do them.

He woke the brothers first, gently shaking their shoulders until they roused. They blinked their eyes open sleepily, yawning and trying to stretch without hitting each other. Noah waited for them to look at him, and then he nodded; they would need no other explanation than that.

He moved to Torrey’s bed next, taking a moment to lift a lock of her hair and rub it between his fingers. It was so bright and such a beautiful color, like a brand new penny, and he was entranced by it; he’d never seen hair of that shade before. After a moment, though, he let the strand drop back to its place on the pillow, and touched the girl’s shoulder. Another light shake woke her, and when she rubbed her eyes the faded black of her mascara came away on her hands.

“Ah fuck,” She mumbled as she stared down at the black streaks; she had forgotten to remove her makeup before crawling into bed, and had then also forgotten that it was still on.

Noah chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Such a strong word for such a trivial problem.”

Torrey couldn’t help but laugh at herself. “Yeah, I know, but I use that word about as often as I inhale.”

“So do m’boys.” Noah shot them a teasing glance, which they both rolled their eyes at. “But it’s time t’get up, lass. We’ve got too much t’do today.”

Torrey nodded, a more serious look washing over her features, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She pulled her boots away from the side table and shoved her feet into them, quickly tying the laces and rolling the cuffs of her jeans over the ankles of the boots.

“Take her over t’your friend, the gun runner. Get her armed with whatever she feels comfortable with. I’m going t’get us a car and some other supplies. We can meet up at Doc’s, in the back.” Noah instructed Connor and Murphy as they put on their coats and packed up their duffel bags.

The twins nodded and walked over to Torrey, who was already waiting at the door. They didn’t speak, just left the room and the building silently and made their way into town, Connor and Murphy flanking Torrey’s sides.

~ ~ ~

Torrey shivered as the trio walked down the streets of Boston, the chill in the air hitting her bare shoulders with a vengeance. She was still in just a tanktop, as she had been the day before, and she cursed herself for not having brought a jacket with her. She envied the boys and their stupid, warm, coats.

Connor tried to hide his smirk as he watched Torrey’s shoulders shake and her jaw clench so that her teeth wouldn’t rattle. “Cold, lass?”

“No, I just vibrate sometimes because it’s fucking fun.” She snapped back at him, her tone vicious yet still playful.

Connor bit back a laugh, and removed his coat, holding it out to her. “Here, ye can borrow mine.”

Murphy, noticing this bit of chivalry (along with the way his brother was looking at the girl beside them), shrugged out of own coat and offered it to the lady. “His ain’t been washed in weeks. Ye should take mine instead.”

Connor glared at his brother and smacked his arm out of the way. “The girl don’t need two coats, Murph, and I know ye get cold without yers. Mine smells just fine, anyhow.”

Murphy shoved at Connor’s shoulder. “I don’t get fucking cold, asshole. I’d be just as fine without it.”

Sensing the tension in the air, Torrey placed her hands on both of the brothers’ shoulders and shoved, nearly knocking Connor into a building and Murphy into the street. “It’s too early for you two to start fucking fighting. Murphy, shut up and put your coat back on. Connor offered first, so I’m just going to take his. You can offer me yours some other time if you feel so strongly about it.”

And then she snatched Connor’s jacket from his fingers and pulled it on, sighing contentedly at the warmth and getting a nice inhale of Connor’s musky cologne. Connor had been right: his coat did smell “just fine”, maybe even more so than that.

Murphy pouted as he shrugged back into his coat and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Connor grinned at him over the top of Torrey’s head, causing his pout to deepen into a scowl. Connor would pay for his impudence later, Murphy was sure of that.


	4. How Long Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter took for-fucking-ever to write. Not just in terms of minutes and hours, but weeks, too.   
> I feel like it's kind of crappy at first, too, but then it kind of evens out, so I guess that's not really a big deal.   
> And not a lot of people are reading this, which is bothersome, but I suppose more will come in time. Get on this fic, guys; you know I'm a good writer. 
> 
> Anyway, the title of the chapter doesn't fit as good as I hoped it would, but I don't care enough to try and change it again.   
> So please enjoy the fruits of my current labor.

The gun runner didn’t speak when the MacManus brothers entered, but he did stare at their compatriot for a moment, definitely noticing the fact that she was wearing Connor’s jacket. His eyes flickered from the red-haired girl between the boys up to Connor’s face, which held a certain smugness to it though his lips were pressed into a line of neutrality. His gaze then shifted to Murphy, who appeared to be pouting though he was trying to keep his face a mask of indifference.

Silently, the twins pulled a few stacks of money from their coat pockets, Connor having to greatly invade Torrey’s personal space to get his, and handed it over to the gun runner, who wore a bemused expression at the scene he had just witnessed. The gun runner locked the money up in a safety deposit box before pulling a duffel bag from a hook in the wall. He was about to offer it to one of the boys when Torrey stepped forward, gently taking it from the man’s waiting fingers. She flashed him a radiant smile; he responded with a playful smirk.

“Knock yourself out.” He said as he nodded in the direction of the gun locker.

Torrey turned, her hair swishing with the movement, and pushed the gate open. Her eyes lit up at the sight of so many guns, just like the brothers’ had done during their first time here. The boys, following behind Torrey, shared a grin.

Torrey trailed her fingers over the guns’ shiny surfaces, searching for the ones the brothers used.

“Berettas, right?” She asked, turning to face the men.

Their eyes snapped up to hers, almost puzzled. “Hmm?” They hummed in unison.

“You guys use Berettas equipped with silencers, don’t you?” She asked again.

“Aye.” Both boys spoke in unison once more. They shared another sidelong glance and a secretive smile. Yes, they liked this girl, they liked her a lot; any girl who could tell which guns they used, especially with only a short look at them from a distance away, practically had their hearts.

Smiling, Torrey picked up a pair of Berettas, silencers already included, and about five boxes of ammo. But she needed something more than just guns, something for close-range combat and all around sticky situations; she needed a knife.

Three seconds with the meager blade collection had her whispering “Butterflies” excitedly under her breath. Butterfly knives, to be more exact. They were about ten inches in length, from blade tip to handle end, the blades taking up most of their height. The blades were slightly curved at the tip, and jagged along the side, and the handle had an empty space in its middle for a better grip. One look and Torrey was hooked; she’d wanted a pair of Butterflies all her life, but the fact that they were illegal to own had always hindered her. That didn’t matter now, though, since they weren’t exactly going to be obeying the law to begin with.

Torrey took both of the Butterflies on display, shoving one into her bag and the other into a belt loop on her jeans. Having that knife there felt a little bit like Heaven, like she’d finally found the one place she belonged in the world, and a reverent smile curved her lips upward as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She felt better inn that moment than she had in years.

As she turned to leave her eyes lit on the coils of rope hanging on the left side of the gate’s opening. The two hanging in plain sight were much too large, nothing she could carry or maneuver with easily. But below those two were a few smaller coils, including one that would fit in her bag and only take up about half the space, which was fine since she had more than enough room in the duffel.

The boys watched as Torrey added the smaller coil of rope to her bag and zipped it up, Connor’s face more smug than before, Murphy’s expression filled with anxiety.

Connor nudged his brother playfully with his elbow. “Looks like I won the bet, Murph.”

~ ~ ~

“I’ll need to stop at my place for a minute, since we’re in the area. I’d like to grab my own jacket, maybe another pair of jeans and a shirt change.” Torrey spoke as they exited the gun locker and made their way back into the sunlight of the morning.

She didn’t wait for them to reply, simply slung the duffel over her shoulder and marched across the street, giving them no choice but to follow her. They lagged behind, letting her lead the way this time, neither one too anxious to leave behind the view they now had.

Torrey’s apartment was only a few blocks away, and the trio made it there within a few minutes time. It was nicer than the loft the brothers had shared once upon a time, but no more eye-catching than theirs had been, and certainly no more conspicuous. There was no one around when they walked up the street toward the building, no prying eyes watching from behind quirked curtains as they entered the front door of Torrey’s unit.

The apartment was small, but not cramped; it would often be described as “cozy.” The walls were white, the carpet was a dull shade of beige, but the furniture and the pictures on the walls screamed colors. The leather couches were done in a minty green, emerald green pillows adorning the spaces next to the armrests. The glass coffee table in front of the couches had a lavender bottom and legs, and the TV stand was a polished chestnut. On the back wall, the one you directly faced when entering the house, were three aqua colored shelves, their faces covered in figurines of all different shapes and sizes.

Pictures covered nearly every other open space on the walls, their frames mostly black or silver or gold to better illuminate the people held within. Torrey was in most of the pictures, but she was never alone; in many of them she was with a slim Indian girl with jet black hair and wide lively eyes; the boys assumed this girl was Monica, but they thought it would be better if they didn’t ask.

“Make yourselves comfortable. Look around if you want. I’ll be in the bedroom.” Torrey left them standing in the foyer, turning and walking down the hall as if they’d never been there in the first place.

Once in her own room, Torrey shrugged out of Connor’s coat and threw it into the hallway, not intending to be rude with his property, but just to get it off of her. She was sweltering in the soft fabric now that they were out of the morning’s chill, and the style didn’t suit her at all.

She shoved open her closet door, quickly clawing through the pile of jackets on the floor, searching for her favorite one, the one that complimented every outfit she wore, the one that accented her figure perfectly as well as outlined the rigidness lying just under the surface of her lovable personality.

Her fingers latched onto the worn fabric and roughly jerked upward, pulling the garment free from the rest of the clothes it had been drowning under. With a wide smile she quickly slipped it onto her body, reveling in the cool touch the satin lining had against her skin.

“Since when did angels wear leather?” Murphy muttered under his breath to Connor, choking back a laugh at his own wittiness. The two were standing in the threshold of Torrey’s bedroom, and Murphy didn’t think the girl could hear him.

“Since Saints started wearing pea-coats.” She retorted, not even batting an eyelash at the compliment he had inadvertently given her. She was too busy admiring her reflection in the mirror to pay his flirting any real attention.

The leather jacket was a muted shade of black, the hems worn and fraying from years of use. Two pockets resided on its front, one on either side, and both zipped closed to keep whatever was inside safe. The zipper that ran the full length of the front of the jacket had broken long ago, rendering the jacket open at all times, but Torrey was never bothered by that; she rather liked showing off her shirts, and sometimes her cleavage.

After slipping into the jacket and getting more comfortable, Torrey began to throw random clothes into her duffel bag, along with her deodorant, hair brush, and toothbrush. As soon as the necessities were packed she slowed down, walking over to her bedside table and opening the top drawer.

She reached inside, picking up the long broken charm bracelet residing there, and held it up to her eyes for what felt like the first and the last time. The bracelet was made up of tiny linking chains of silver; the charm was the yin half of the yin/yang symbol, it’s body some kind of color changing deal, with a small jewel laid into the rounded part of the symbol, the word “BEST” etched above it.

Torrey could feel the boys inching closer, trying to get a look at whatever she was holding, so she turned to face them. She held the bracelet out to them, cupped in her palm as if it were the most precious thing in the world. The brothers gingerly touched a finger to the charm, studying this artifact that the girl had presented to them.

“Monica has the other one, somewhere. Hers is the yang side, and it says “FRIEND” on it. The charms have little magnets in them to connect to each other, so when you link them it creates the full symbol and says “BEST FRIEND.” We’ve had these things for so many years, both of them broken, I think, but neither of us has thought to get rid of it.” Torrey’s lips curved up into a soft smile as she stared at the bracelet in her hand, her eyes watering slightly.

She was giving up so much by running away with these two men. She would miss her best friend’s awakening from the coma, wouldn’t be there when she started her rehabilitation, wouldn’t be supporting her when she needed her most. She was abandoning Monica, abandoning the only person in her life she swore she’d never leave, and that’s what hurt most of all.

When Monica woke up someday Torrey’s face wouldn’t be the first thing she would see, it would be the face of some nurse or doctor in that shitty hospital room. When Monica called Torrey’s phone to ask where she was, or just to see if she was okay, she’d be hit with one of those “the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected” messages. When Monica knocked on Torrey’s door no one would be there to open it and invite her in with warm hugs. When Monica needed Torrey the most Torrey wouldn’t be there.

She would have to find some way to explain, some way to let Monica know that she was sorry, some way to beg forgiveness. She would write a letter, leave it somewhere Monica was sure to find it, eventually.

But first Torrey would go see her for the last time.

Torrey dropped the bracelet into her duffel and zipped it up, slinging it over her shoulder once more.

“Ye ready t’go, lass?” Connor asked, his tone gentle as he tried to meet her troubled eyes.

“Yeah, there’s just one more thing I have to do first.”


	5. There's Nothing Good About Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I really am not pleased by how this chapter turned out. Definitely not my best work. But I'm sure I'll get back on point by the time the next chapter rolls around. I know this story is going to be good, I just need to get into the swing of things, since I have a lot of other things to work on right now.   
> Hopefully you will all overlook the poor quality of this chapter and enjoy it, anyway. At least I hope so.

Torrey clasped Monica’s limp hand gently in her own, interlocking their fingers, cream meeting caramel. She tried to breathe deeply, tried to keep the tears at bay, but seeing her best friend’s face still marred and bruised brought on emotions Torrey didn’t even know were real.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you sooner. So sorry I didn’t just deal with that asshole before things got this bad.”  Torrey lifted her free hand to smooth the jet black waterfall flowing over the pillow beneath the other girl’s head.

Monica didn’t respond, just like Torrey knew she wouldn’t, but there had still been some small spark of hope fanning through the redhead’s chest; she was praying that Monica would wake up and reassure her that she did the right thing, but there was no movement from the comatose girl on the hospital bed.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t keep my promise, and now I’m going to break another one.” The tears began to fall then, rolling slowly down her cheeks and blurring her vision in a watery haze.

_“Monica, we’ve been friends for a long time, right?” Torrey asked, giving her friend a playful poke to the stomach._

_“Yeah. About a year now, huh?” Monica grinned and poked Torrey back, eliciting soft giggles from both girls._

_Torrey nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”_

_The two girls were about fifteen, both still in high school as juniors, and they were spending the night at Torrey’s house after some movie premiere they’d begged to be allowed to go to._

_It was apparent within the first week of their friendship that they were practically long lost sisters, that they were that special kind of friend that is often called a “best friend” but is more accurately a “soul mate.” A year together felt closer to forever, like they were twins who had never been apart a day in their lives._

_“Can I tell you something?” Torrey asked quietly, not looking toward Monica even though neither could see each other very well in the darkness of her room._

_“Anything.”_

_Torrey bit at her lip, wondering how to word things properly so that she wouldn’t seem creepy. In the end, she decided that it would just be better to blurt everything out at once and get it over with._

_“It’s a promise, actually. Monica, I promise that I’ll always protect you, no matter what happens. As long as you’re with me you’ll be safe; I don’t care if fifty people are coming at us. As long as we’re friends, which I expect will be until the day we die, I’ll never let anyone or anything hurt you. I promise.”_

The memory of her own words hit Torrey like a slap in the face, or a punch to the chest, since that’s what it felt like. Then the sobs broke free from her throat, though still she tried to keep them silent. Her body shook with them, the tears hot and persistent in her eyes and warm on her face. She closed her eyes, trying to erase the memory, trying to block out the picture of the battered girl before her, but she couldn’t escape them.

She had promised to protect the only person she cared about, and she had failed. And now instead of sticking around to fix things she was leaving, off with two mysterious men she barely knew, to fulfill a mission that they believed was their life calling and that she believed was her only way to maintain her life.

And though she knew that if she was arrested, which she certainly would be if she stuck around this area much longer, she wouldn’t be able to do anything to help Monica any more than she would now that she was leaving, Torrey longed to spend the remainder of her days by the Indian girl’s side. What did it matter if she got arrested, anyway? Either way she was leaving her life behind, her job, her house, her hopes and dreams for the future. Either way she would never know peace or happiness or love ever again. Either way her life would be drastically changed for the worse.

Two hands fell gently on her shoulders, one on either side of her, squeezing softly as if to try and offer comfort. Torrey didn’t have to look up to know that Connor was on one side and Murphy was on the other; to be honest she had forgotten they were even there, but now she was glad for their presence.

The hands remained on her shoulders, and she drew strength from them. She managed to control the sobs that had previously been wracking her body, and the tears ebbed soon after.

And then, much to Torrey’s surprise, each brother was raising his free hand to her face cautiously and tenderly wiping her remaining tears away. The clear diamonds from her eyes fell on their tattooed fingers, making the ink glisten under the stark white lights of the hospital room. Torrey couldn’t help but be shocked by their affectionate gesture, and though she didn’t have the words at the moment she would thank them for it later.

The boys’ fingers rested on Torrey’s cheeks long after her tears had dried, stroking soothing lines across her cheekbones and into her soft skin. None of them spoke; none of them needed to.

With one last squeeze of Monica’s fingers, Torrey reached up and grasped the brothers’ hands in her own, pulling them to her sides. She was stronger now, a little bit more hardened, and she was ready to go.

But before they left forever Torrey pulled her broken charm bracelet out of her duffel bag and set it on the desk beside Monica’s bed. Someday the girl would wake up to see that token, and she would understand that Torrey couldn’t be there with her anymore. Monica wouldn’t decipher all the details just from that one clue, but she’d get the gist of it, and hopefully she wouldn’t ask questions or go looking in places she shouldn’t.

Torrey, brazen as ever, slipped her hands into the brothers’, and the three of them stayed linked that way as they left the hospital.


	6. Matter Of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I haven't updated this fic in such a long time, and I feel really terrible about that. But pretty much no one is reading it anyway, so I suppose it doesn't really matter much.   
> Anyway, I feel like the title of the chapter is kind of self-explanatory, but at the same time I feel like it's vague. Which is a very weird feeling for me. But I hope you guys understand what I meant by it once you've finished the chapter.   
> I didn't really know where to go with this chapter, so I just made it smut. Don't judge me.   
> Enjoy.

It was about forty minutes after midnight, and Torrey and Connor were out on the fire escape, inhaling smoke almost faster than it could travel to their lungs, and chasing that down with shots of Jameson.

Torrey and the boys had left the hospital and made a pit stop to a corner liquor store that none of them had ever entered before to stock up on cigarettes and other provision they might need for the long trip ahead. Torrey decided to splurge a little bit, considering she no longer had any real responsibilities to pay for, and bought five packs of her favorite brand of cigarette: Blacks. Actually, they were mini, filtered cigars, and only twelve came to a pack for a price of about six dollars, but for those babies Torrey would have paid any amount.

Those were what her and Connor were smoking then, inhaling the rich, smooth smoke and wishing they didn’t have to exhale any part of it.

“S’gonna be hard t’go back t’ regular smokes after these, lass.” Connor grinned as he spoke, his words blowing out with the excess smoke on his lips, and twirled the little black stick around his fingers.

“Don’t I know it.” Torrey laughed softly, grabbing the bottle of Jameson from Connor and taking a swig. “But I figured we all needed a little going-away present.”

They didn’t speak for a few moments after that, simply stared up at the inky night sky and took more puffs on their cigarettes. Connor took the bottle back and chugged a few swallows, holding the neck as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Torrey didn’t bother taking it back.

Torrey smoked hers down to the filter, snubbed it out on the railing, and lit up another, taking a deep drag on the first hit. She closed her eyes, letting the clove flavor of the cigarette wash over her tongue, and then blew the smoke out into the night.

“Ye alright, Red?”

Torrey opened her eyes to find Connor staring at her, his eyes wide and observant, if not slightly red-rimmed from the alcohol. His eyes were so blue, so open and inviting, and having them trained on her caused something inside of Torrey to snap. She couldn’t speak, nor did she want to; she simply grabbed the collar of Connor’s shirt and pulled him towards her, slamming her mouth into his and kissing him forcefully.

Connor was so shocked he nearly dropped the bottle of Jameson still clutched between his fingers. Torrey didn’t let up, though, just kept her lips pressed against his, waiting for him to respond. After a moment he managed to wrap an arm around her and kiss her back, molding his lips to hers and letting her take over from there.

The two kissed for a while, dropping their cigarettes to the floor and leaving them there. Torrey’s arms latched around Connor’s shoulders, one hand gently grabbing his jacket’s collar while the other curled into his hair. Connor held Torrey in the arm that was still holding the bottle of liquor while the other reached up, his fingers snaking into Torrey’s silky red hair and tugging lightly at the strands.

Torrey was the one to break the kiss, ending it as abruptly as she had started it. “I don’t want to talk, Connor, I want to feel. My chest feels like it’s caving in, like my heart’s turned into this big black hole that’s just sucking away every part of me that I used to know. And I don’t want to feel that way. I want to feel pleasure, not pain or sorrow. Can you do that for me?”

Connor gazed down at the woman before him, taking in her slightly flushed cheeks, her emerald-green eyes, her luscious lips that he had just had the honor of kissing. He could see the agony welling up just behind her pupils, the stone-cold hardness there, and he realized that he never wanted her to feel pain, never wanted to see her so unhappy. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and whisk her off to a place of unadulterated pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to touch every inch of her with his fingertips, to feel her smooth skin rubbing against his own.

“I can, Red, an’ I want to, but…” Connor trailed off, letting his sentence drop when he saw her eyes shatter over his “but.”

“But what?” Torrey asked, starting to unwind herself from around him.

Connor pulled her even tighter against him, unwilling to let her go. “But Murph and Da are sleepin’ in there, and it’d be rather rude t’do such things next t’them. ‘Sides, what if they wake up?”

Torrey smirked, though it didn’t touch her eyes. “Well, Doc has a spare bedroom upstairs, above the bar. He offered it to me while you three were getting set up in the rumpus room, saying something about how a pretty young thing like me shouldn’t have to spend the night locked in a room with you three brutes.” She giggled then, bringing the rosy glow back into her cheeks. “So if that’s all that’s stopping you, we have another viable option.”

Without a word, Connor pressed his lips back to Torrey’s, kissing her with a hunger that couldn’t be satiated. “Where’s the room, lass?”

~ ~ ~

Torrey sighed contentedly as Connor laid her bare body on the bed, his lips latching themselves to the side of her throat for a moment before they traveled lower, catching her collar bone.

She was even more beautiful than he had expected, her body lithe and toned and curvy where it counted. He couldn’t keep his hands, or his lips, off of her; his palms were currently cupping her supple breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples.

Torrey was just as satisfied as Connor. He was gorgeous with his clothes off, his skin slightly tanned, his muscles in perfect definition under his skin. If he wasn’t working on her then she’d be all over him, licking every inch of his body and worshiping it properly; but she couldn’t think much about that now, not when his mouth had replaced on of his hands at her breast and his other hand was trailing much lower down.

She moaned when his fingers brushed across her thighs, having to bite down on her bottom lip to try to keep her tone hushed. He was teasing her now, making her writhe underneath him, and as much as she loved a good tease she was in no mood for it now. She was too riled up, too filled with emotion to take things this slow.

“Connor,” She mumbled out, her nails digging into his shoulder as he brushed his fingers feather-light over the spot she wanted touched most.

“Aye?” He responded, placing sloppy kisses all down her stomach while he looked up at her.

“I can’t handle the slowness. Please -” She gasped, abruptly cutting off her statement.

Connor had just flicked his tongue over her clit, distracting her completely, and damn if she wasn’t inclined to just let him continue. But he seemed to understand what she was saying, because suddenly he was looming over her, his mouth molding to hers.

“Ye ready, lass?” He whispered, smirking down at her.

She bit her lip, trying to stifle a whimper, and nodded.

And then he pushed into her, and they were one.

~ ~ ~

Murphy woke abruptly from forgotten dreams, his head darting in every direction to try and find Connor. But Connor wasn’t there beside him, wasn’t even in the same room.

Murphy got to his feet slowly, taking care to be quiet so as not to wake Da. He peered outside, checking the fire escape, and felt a wave of disappointment wash over him when he saw that the small stairwell was empty.

Where was Connor? And for that matter, where was Torrey? The little redhead was missing, too. Murphy was thoroughly confused by the situation. Were they together? If so, where could they possibly have gone?

And then Murphy remembered that spare bedroom Doc had upstairs, and dread settled into his stomach. They were together, and they were up in that bedroom, Murphy was sure of it.

He padded along the hardwood floor in his socks, slipping silently out of the room, and made his way upstairs. He paused at the door to the spare bedroom, putting his ear to the door; the sound of muted moans and gasps floated out to him.

Murphy let out his own quiet moan, but this was one of agony not pleasure. He knew he should walk away, just go back downstairs, back to his little corner next to Da and try to get some sleep. But his body had other ideas.

He reached out, gripping the doorknob tightly in his fist. Slowly, he pushed the door open, thankful that it didn’t make a sound. He stopped in the doorway, frozen by the scene before him.

Connor’s back was towards Murphy, his muscles taut as wire under the tan skin, his hips rotating frantically, yet smoothly, as he thrust into Torrey, who was laying underneath him. Torrey’s back was arched against the mattress, short little pants of breath escaping her throat, and she was tightly clutching one of Connor’s arms in one hand, her other hand latched onto his hip, her nails digging into his flesh so fiercely that Murphy could swear he saw blood.

And then Torrey turned her head a fraction of an inch, catching Murphy in her sights. Her face showed no shock, no anger at his intrusion, only pleasure from all that Connor was giving her. And then she did the oddest thing: she winked at Murphy.


	7. Spinning Out Of Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title doesn't really fit the chapter at all, but I'm too lazy to go back and change it now.   
> I'm really on a roll with this fic so far, too, since I wrote a chapter last night and another one today. Maybe I'll even write a third later tonight, if I have the motivation for it.   
> So come on, guys, get to reading this. You know I'm a good writer. This is gonna be a good story, I think. In any case, I need some support on this.

Murphy quickly closed the door, taking care to be as quiet as possible. Once the door was shut he pushed his back against it, letting it steady him, and slid down to the floor.

From inside he heard Connor murmur, “What was that?”, and then Torrey responded with “Who fucking cares?” And that cut Murphy deeply for some reason he couldn’t quite explain. It was bad enough seeing them fucking, but to have the redhead blow off his presence completely made things even worse.

But what was she going to do, stop Connor and tell him his brother had come to the door and seen them? That would kill the mood for sure, and neither of them seemed to want to stop if they didn’t have to. Murphy could understand that, he supposed.

And why was he so upset anyway? He’d seen Connor fuck other girls before. Hell, they’d taken a pair to their old loft and had a damn dirty session together a while back. But this time was different, and he wasn’t quite sure why.

Was he jealous of Connor? That was a possibility, considering he had taken a shine to Torrey, too. And now that Connor had laid claim to her that way she’d be plastered to him like glue, and Murphy would be the odd man out, the third wheel, alone though he was still amongst the ones he loved.

Yes, that was part of it. But there was something else, too. He wasn’t just jealous of Connor, he was jealous of Torrey, as well. He’d seen Connor naked at least a hundred times before, and each time he found himself thinking about how gorgeous Connor was; and truth be told he would love nothing more than to have Connor slamming into him, making him moan and writhe on the bed sheets.

Not that they hadn’t done that before. They’d figured out a long time ago that they were the only truly perfect ones for each other, that all the others were flings or experiments, a way to blow off steam or experience the other end of things for a change. But it seemed more and more lately that Murphy was a hell of a lot more attracted to Connor than Connor was attracted to Murphy. Connor would never leave Murphy, not permanently, but he would certainly stray much more frequently.

Murphy shook his head at himself, feeling tears begin to brim in his eyes. So what if Connor wanted to fuck that girl? So what if they did end up starting something more regular? She was going to be there with them for the foreseeable future, anyway, so it only made sense for her to have fun with one of them. But he did so wish that she would want the both, that Connor would want both Torrey and him; because he was fairly certain he was going to be left out on all sides.

~ ~ ~

Connor collapsed onto the mattress beside Torrey, breathing heavily. Strands of his hair were falling into his face, some of them plastered against his forehead with sweat. But there was a grin on his face almost too wide for his muscles to handle, and his heart was skipping beats.

He turned his head, taking in Torrey’s still form and the rise and fall of her lovely chest. He creamy skin had been just as soft and smooth as he’d imagined, her hair splaying out around her face like fire. All in all, she was some other kind of wonderful, some other kind of perfect.

He turned on his side and reached over, gently touching at her abdomen, sliding his fingers across her stomach, touching her just because he could, just because he wanted to. She made no move to push him away, but rather seemed to revel in his touch. She even inched slightly closer to him, as if she wanted his hands on her, all over her. And he obliged her, stroking his fingers from her sternum down to her long legs and back up again.

“You hoping for another round, Connor?” She asked, her voice taking on a playful tone.

“Nah, lass, just like touchin’ ye. Yer just so soft an’ supple, an’ frankly it’s been a while since I had a girl as lovely as yourself in me bed.”

“Technically it’s not your bed.” Torrey smirked, teasing him, and he gave her a wicked grin in response.

“Ye know what I mean, Red.” Connor chuckled as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her flushed cheek.

And then he pulled her closer, cuddling her into his chest. She turned so that her back was to him, her body fitting snugly against his. He had to force himself not to think about how sweet she smelled or the fact that her ass was right up against his cock.

“Connor?” She asked, her voice seeming hesitant.

“Aye?” He responded, propping himself on an elbow and looking down toward her face, trying to catch her expression.

“When we were… Murphy came to the door. I think maybe he was looking for you, but when he opened the door he just… stood there for a minute. He seemed to be in shock; I could practically see his heart shatter just before he closed the door.

“I’m not mad or anything. I mean, he walked in on us by accident, and it’s always a surprise to see two people in the middle of that sort of thing. But the look on his face… I just can’t get it out of my mind.” Torrey sighed, turning her head slightly to meet Connor’s gaze.

Connor’s face grew hard, his jaw clenching and lips tightening into a thin line. “I’ll have a talk with him.”

He unwound his arm from Torrey’s middle, making as if to get up, but Torrey caught his arm. He turned back to her, one brow quirked in confusion. “What is it, Red?”

“I don’t want you to be upset with him. Or with me for not telling you until now.”

Connor sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “M’not mad at ye, Red. Not even mad at him. I just don’t want him getting any wild ideas ‘bout sharin’ ye, or nothin’ like that.”

Torrey’s brows furrowed, and she released Connor’s arm. “What if I want to be shared?”

Connor looked at Torrey sharply. “What are ye talkin’ about?”

“Well…” She began, averting her eyes to look at the sheets around her. “I like Murphy. He’s handsome, in a different way than you are, and he’s sweet and funny. And clearly he likes me, at least a little bit. I mean, he did call me an angel when we were in my apartment today.” She smiled to herself for a moment, remembering the compliment.

“So?” Connor snorted.

“So I’m not just attached to you, Connor, if that’s what you were thinking. Yeah, I like you, and tonight was fun; I’d certainly like to have a repeat sometime in the near future. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to do something with Murphy, too. I’m going to be living with you both for a very long time, and it’d be rude to just fuck you and leave him out of it. It would probably hurt him, too, to be pushed into the third wheel position like that. I mean, how would you feel if the roles were reversed?”

Connor bit his lip and looked toward the window, shrouded behind a thick curtain. “Spose yer right, lass. Just didn’t want ye to feel uncomfortable or nothin’. If yer sure that’s what ye want, then I won’t say anythin’ to him about it.”

“I’m sure, Connor.” Torrey lightly raked her nails across his arm, making him turn back to her, and then she gave him a bright smile. “Now it’s getting chilly in here, so how about you warm me up again?”

Connor turned and wrapped his arms around the slim redhead, pulling her flush against his chest. “Yer wish is my command, Red.”


	8. Someone That You're With

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo three chapters in two days! That's gotta be a record for me.   
> And huzzah for Connor/Murphy smut. Because we all need a little bit of that in our lives.   
> May you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Connor woke before Torrey, blinking his eyes open blearily as he caught his bearings. He looked down at the woman beside him, smiling at her angelic face and flaming hair. Carefully, he unwound himself from her, and then silently dressed and made his way out of the room, leaving Torrey to her dreams.

Connor closed the door and turned to go downstairs, stopping at the landing. Murphy was sitting on the top step, his back against the banister, his face pinched as if in a nightmare. Connor sighed and knelt beside his brother, giving him a gentle shake to the shoulder.

“Murphy,” Connor whispered his name, giving him another shake.

Murphy blinked his eyes open, a smile lighting his features when his eyes fell on Connor’s face. “Mornin’, Conn.”

“Ye been up here all night, Murph?” Connor asked, concern coloring his tone.

Murphy rubbed his eyes and yawned, stunning Connor with just how cute he was; he looked like the little boy he’d been near on fifteen years ago. “Yeah, more ‘r less.”

“Why?”

Murphy bit his lip and averted his eyes from his twin’s gaze. “I woke up downstairs and ye weren’t there, so I went lookin’ for ye. But ye were… busy, so I just stayed up here, waitin’ for ye to come out.”

Connor couldn’t help but chuckle at Murphy’s explanation. He was acting like a child, a stupid child, but Connor couldn’t be mad at Murphy for needing him, and wanting him beside him when he slept. Connor himself had searched Murphy out plenty of times when his dreams became too vivid, too real, and too painful.

Connor brought his hand up, stroking his thumb over his brother’s cheekbone. “I’m sorry ye saw what ye did last night.”

Murphy sighed, dipping his head down and causing Connor’s hand to fall back to his shoulder. “S’alright. I figured it’d happen sooner ‘r later, anyway. The ladies always go for you, Conn.”

“Hey now, that’s not true.” Connor admonished gently, but in truth he couldn’t think of a single example to back up what he’d said. In truth, the girls always did go for him instead of soft spoken, yet still excitable, Murphy.

“Don’t have t’lie t’me, Conn.” Murphy shook his head, making a move to push his twin away.

Connor caught his arm easily, and pulled Murphy into an awkward embrace. “M’not lyin’. Torrey saw ye last night, told me ‘bout it after. She’s not mad, an’ she actually said she wouldn’t mind comin’ to ye sometimes, too. She likes ye, brother, as much as she likes me. An’ she ain’t got no problem wit us sharin’ her.”

Murphy pulled back, looking into Connor’s eyes. “Really? She said that?”

“Aye.”

Murphy bit at his bottom lip and nodded, looking away again as if he were contemplating something else.

“What’s wrong, Murph? That’s good news.” Connor placed his thumb and forefinger on Murphy’s chin and gingerly lifted his face up to catch his expression.

“Well… that’s nice t’hear an’ all, but truth be told I wasn’t just jealous of you last night, Conn; I was jealous of her, too.”

“What’ve ye got t’be jealous of, Murph? I’m yers; I’m always gonna be yers.”

“Just feels like I’m more into you than yer into me lately, Connor. An’ now with that lil’ redhead around yer gonna push me away even more, an’ I’d rather have you than her if I’m bein’ honest.”

Connor huffed, dropping his hand from his brother’s face. “Are ye just thinkin’ I’m not gonna fuck ye as much now that I’m fuckin’ her? Is that what this is all about?”

Murphy’s eyes quickly dropped to the floor. “No.”

“Don’t ye fuckin’ lie t’me, Murphy MacManus. I can see right through ye, especially when yer not lookin’ at me.”

“It’s not!” Murphy insisted, though he still didn’t meet Connor’s eyes.

Connor sighed and forcefully cupped Murphy’s jaw between his hands, lifting his face up and pressing his lip roughly to his brother’s. Murphy whimpered softly, whether in surprise or pleasure Connor couldn’t tell, nor did he care. He molded his mouth to Murphy’s, running his tongue over Murphy’s bottom lip, begging entry, which Murphy gave to him willingly. Murphy parted his lips, his hands coming up to tangle in his twin’s hair, and pulled himself into Connor’s lap. Connor leaned back, his ass square on the floor, and allowed Murphy to climb on top of him.

Connor’s tongue twined over Murphy’s, both of them fighting for dominance until finally Murphy gave in and let Connor take the reins. Connor let his tongue dance in Murphy’s mouth for a few moments longer before he pulled back, taking his brother’s bottom lip in his teeth and giving it a gentle tug.

“This what ye wanted, Murph? This what yer afraid yer gonna miss out on now?” Connor’s voice was husky, heavy-laden with his lust for his twin, and it drove Murphy crazy. He leaned forward, his lips at Murphy’s ear. “Well, Murph, I’ve got news for ye: I’d never give this up, never give _you_ up. You’re like a damn drug to me, Murphy, an’ no matter how many hits I take of someone else you’ll always be the one I come back to. Ye got that?”

Murphy nodded frantically, moaning out something of an affirmation, and then desperately pushed their mouths back together. Connor let Murphy take that control for a few moments, enjoying the eager way Murphy kissed him, but sooner than Murphy would have liked he pulled back.

“If we’re gonna be doin’ this right now we’re gonna have t’find somewhere more private.”

Murphy sighed and rolled off of his brother, the bulge in his jeans quite prominent. “Where do ye propose we go?”

“Bathroom’s right over there.” Connor waggled his brows teasingly, jerking his thumb in the direction of the upstairs bathroom, on the opposite wall from the bedroom Torrey was still sleeping in.

“Fine.” Murphy huffed as he got to his feet, pulling Connor up with him.

Connor let Murphy drag him into the bathroom, but once the door was shut he shoved Murphy up against the wall. Both of his hands snaked around Murphy’s middle, his fingers quickly undoing the jeans clasp and pulling the zipper down, giving Murphy some much needed relief.

Connor quickly dropped Murphy’s jeans to the floor, sliding his boxers down his thighs just enough to get at his cock and squeeze his pleasantly round rump. And then he pulled back, dealing with his own jeans while Murphy squirmed around against the wall, growing more impatient by the second.

Once Connor’s own jeans and boxers were taken care of, he put one arm around Murphy’s shoulders and touched at his lips. Murphy willingly accepted Connor’s fingers, twirling his tongue around them and sucking on them with a fervor that made Connor rock hard within seconds.

When Connor was satisfied by how slick his fingers had become he pulled them back around to Murphy’s ass, gently prodding at his brother’s entrance until he was able to slowly slide one finger inside of Murphy.

Murphy whimpered, biting his lip to keep the volume down, and bucked his hips against Connor’s hand. He didn’t really care about all the preparation, he just wanted Connor to fuck him already; he needed that, needed Connor to assuage all of his previous fears and make him feel wanted.

And Connor was ready to do that, he just didn’t want to hurt Murphy in the process. So he took his time adding a second finger, and then a third, allowing Murphy plenty of time to adjust to the stretch. Finally they were both ready.

Connor spit on his palm, slicking his cock up, and then guided himself into Murphy’s entrance, slowly pushing into him with a muted groan. Murphy pressed his forehead against the cool bathroom wall, letting out quiet whimpers and mewls.

Connor reached forward, offering Murphy his inked trigger finger. “Ye can bite me if ye need to, Murph.”

And Murphy obliged him, biting down hard on the area where Connor’s “veritas” tattoo resided, moaning as Connor entered him fully. Connor’s other hand came to rest on Murphy’s hip, gripping him tightly as he began to slowly thrust in and out of his twin.

Murphy moaned around Connor’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut so that he could just feel Connor inside him with as little distraction as possible. Connor bucked his hips at a steady pace, each thrust pushing Murphy into the wall, letting out short pants of air.

He pulled Murphy back from the wall, bending him over the sink instead, and removed his other hand from Murphy’s mouth to hold both of his twin’s hips and gain better leverage. His fingernails dug deeply into Murphy’s skin, causing Murphy to groan and reach down to clutch his own cock. Murphy squeezed and kneaded himself, trying to time his strokes with Connor’s erratic thrusts.

Connor, nearing his orgasm, deepened his thrusts, each one pounding harder and harder into Murphy, sending him damn near into the faucet each time. But Murphy kept his head up and out of the way of danger and didn’t dare ask Connor to stop because everything just felt so fucking good.

Finally they both came, gasping loudly as they tipped over the precipice of pleasure. Connor gently laid himself over his brother’s back, removing one hand from his hip to pull down the collar of his shirt and press kisses into his skin. Murphy grinned at Connor’s sweet gestures, his hair hanging in his face, his head dipped down so far he was nearly touching the drain covering in the sink.

Connor brought his lips up to Murphy’s ear, his whispered breath fanning over Murphy’s skin in a not-unpleasant way. “I love ye, Murph. Don’t ye ever forget that.”


	9. Two Worlds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is supposed to represent the separation between the brothers and Torrey, though it does kind of include the separation between them and their father, as well. 
> 
> This chapter was a little difficult to write, and I'm not extremely pleased with it.   
> But I'm sure the next one will turn out better.   
> Enjoy.

Torrey woke to an empty bed, and felt a slight twinge of disappointment. She had kind of expected Connor to be there beside her still, maybe even still asleep so she could wake him up with kisses. That was a stupid thought, though; the night before didn’t mean anything, it was just a fling, so there was no real point in him being there still.

But still, Connor had made it sound like he wanted to be serious with her, especially with all those comments about not sharing her with Murphy.

Torrey shook her head, clearing those thoughts away. She barely knew those boys, and they barely knew her. She’d fucked Connor to get her mind off of Monica, and it had helped. It was that simple.

She slid from bed and searched out her clothes, pulling them on quickly so that she wouldn’t freeze her ass off standing there. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten her toiletries in her duffel bag, which was still downstairs in the rumpus room. She’d planned on bringing it up with her when she left Connor, and the two sleeping MacManuses, to head to bed for the night; she cursed herself for forgetting it because of Connor.

Well, she could just grab her bag and head into the bathroom to brush her hair and her teeth and such. She simply ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing the ends down, and prayed no one would be able to tell Connor’s fingers had been tangling the strands most of the night.

~ ~ ~

Connor and Murphy cleaned themselves up, fixed their clothes, and used their fingers to push their hair back into the proper position, grinning at each other all the while.

Once they looked mostly normal, they embraced, hugging each other tightly. It was something they did every morning, something they would continue to do for the rest of their lives. They began each morning wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing their warmth and their love, reassuring each other that no matter what dreams had plagued them they were still right there beside each other, and always would be.

Connor sighed contentedly, breathing in Murphy’s sweet scent. Murphy was so loyal, so loving, so perfect; Connor could never even think of forsaking this. Connor needed Murphy as much as Murphy needed him, maybe even more so. Murphy kept him sane, kept him stable, and brought him back into reality whenever things got tough.

Maybe Connor did like Torrey, at least a little bit, and he’d had fun with her, but Murphy was the one in his heart. Murphy was the one he give his love to for the rest of their lives.

~ ~ ~

“Good morning, Noah.” Torrey smiled brightly at the older man as she entered the little rumpus room.

He turned towards her and nodded, giving her a small smile of his own. Without a word he poured an extra shot of Jameson and placed it on the edge of the pool table, sliding it towards her.

“That’s just what I needed to wake me up.” She laughed as she picked up the shot and downed it. It burned more than it had last night, but maybe that was just because her throat was little bit raw.

“Have a good night’s sleep, lass?” Noah asked, quirking one eyebrow.

Torrey met his gaze, and she could swear he already knew what her and Connor had been up to. But if he did he wasn’t letting on, and she wasn’t about to either. “I did, thank you. How about yourself?”

“As good as one can get on a few blankets on the floor, I suppose.” He smirked, pouring them both another shot.

“Now I feel bad; Doc let me sleep in the spare bedroom upstairs, complete with a comfy bed.” Torrey sipped this shot rather than gulp it; she didn’t want to get drunk before the day had even begun.

“Don’t ye worry about it, lass. I’d not have ye sleepin’ on the floor just for my own comfort, an’ I wouldn’t let my boys do that to ye neither.”

Torrey blushed then, appreciative of Noah’s gentlemanly nature.

The two sat in silence for a while, unsure of what else to say, but comfortable in the other’s presence.

~ ~ ~

“I think it’s about time fer a smoke, Conn.” Murphy said as he pulled back from the hug, his eyes wide and bright, his smile nearly sparkling.

“Aye. Have ye tried the ones that lil’ lass bought yesterday? Best damn cigarettes on the planet.” Connor chuckled. “Perhaps she’ll let us have a couple more, eh?”

Murphy rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway, following Connor out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

When they entered the rumpus room they were greeted with a gruff nod from their father, and a warm smile from Torrey.

“Mornin’, boys.” She grinned, grabbing two spare shot glasses; she walked over to Noah and calmly tipped the neck of the bottle still in his hand, filling the two glasses. She handed one shot to each brother, which they downed eagerly.

Connor, being the jokester that he was, cut a sidelong glance at Murphy, and then leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to Torrey’s cheek. Torrey smirked, but Murphy was fuming; after what he and Connor had just done, after all that had been said, for Connor to just kiss Torrey like it was nothing, right in front of their Da, was an insult.

Murphy, not to be upstaged by his brother, did the same; his lips connected with Torrey’s cheek almost hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure this was what he should really be doing, even though he didn’t want Connor to have all the fun.

Torrey blushed bright pink at having both men kiss her at the same time; though, truth be told, it was close to a dream come true considering how sexy they both were.

Noah cleared his throat from the back of the room, making all three of them jump. Torrey skittered away, heading out onto the fire escape to rid herself of further embarrassment, leaving the brothers to face their father.

“An’ where have ye boys been this morning?” Noah asked, leveling them with an intense stare.

Murphy looked to Connor, hoping he would get them out of this mess; Murphy never had been the best at lying.

But the words fell easily from Connor’s lips, and he didn’t even bat an eye as he spoke them. “Can’t get t’church this mornin’, Da. Me an Murphy needed t’find some place quiet t’pray.”

Noah regarded them with his unwavering stare for several minutes, but finally he nodded. “Good of ye to keep up yer religious duties. Prayer is more important than ever for us now.”

The twins nodded their agreement, then went to join Torrey for a cigarette on the stairwell.


	10. Give Me A Sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter title is mostly supposed to represent Murphy's thoughts about Torrey. Like he wants her to show him that she likes him, instead of just hearing it from Connor? I don't know, I guess that's how I saw it in my head. 
> 
> At least this story seems to be getting easier to write. I'm getting more into the flow of things, so the words are coming at my normal pace. Which, of course, is a good thing. 
> 
> Anyway, enough of my babbling. Enjoy.

“Ye think ye could spare a couple more a’ those Blacks, Red?” Connor asked as soon as he and Murphy were safely on the fire escape.

“You two can split this pack.” Torrey mumbled around her own cigarette, firmly clamped between her lips, as she fished around in the left-breast pocket of her leather jacket.

Torrey came away with an unopened pack of the sweet mini-cigars, but instead of handing it to Connor she turned and offered it to Murphy. Her smile was tight-lipped, due to the cigarette still in her mouth, but it was genuine, and Murphy instantly seemed flustered.

Connor smirked, biting back a chuckle as Murphy tentatively took the pack from Torrey’s outstretched hand with a quiet “thank ye.” He caught Torrey’s eye, giving her a playful wink, to which she responded with a roll of her eyes.

“Hurry up and open the fuckin’ pack, Murph.” Connor smacked his brother lightly on the arm with the back of his hand, turning to lean against the railing.

Murphy fumbled with the wrappings, his fingers damn near turning to rubber over the way Torrey had smiled at him. Sure, he liked her, and he wanted her to show him some attention, but he didn’t think he’d be such a mess because of it. He hadn’t felt nervous around her when they first met, or when she was sleeping only about a foot away from him and Connor on the other bed in that hotel room. The only time he’d felt a twinge of butterflies was when he’d make that angel remark in her apartment, and that had only been due to wondering how she’d react.

So why was he such a tangled bundle of nerves now? Was it because Connor had fucked her first, and they already had a certain repertoire going together? Was it because he knew she was willing to fuck him, too, regardless of what she’d done with Connor? Either way, his stomach was in knots and as much as he wanted to look into her emerald eyes, thank her properly, and be confident, he kept his eyes on his fingers as they methodically opened the pack and pulled out two cigarettes. She had turned away from him, anyway, facing the street once more, leaning over the railing just like Connor was, with her elbows out on the metal rail; her only movement was the lazy rise and fall of her arm as she pulled the cigarette out of her mouth to exhale smoke, and then place it between her lips once more.

Torrey and Connor were standing next to each other, huddling close together to ward of the morning’s chill, and there was plenty of room for Murphy to stand on either side of the two other adults. Usually he would have stood next to Connor, but then usually there wasn’t a pretty girl with them.

After a moment’s debate, about the time it took to actually light his cigarette, Murphy decided today he would stand on Torrey’s side. He stepped forward, standing at a slightly greater distance away from her than Connor was, but no less there beside her. And while his act went unmentioned, and seemingly unnoticed, there was a change in the air that all three of them could feel.

~ ~ ~

“I really don’t mind riding in the backseat with Connor.” Torrey said, shaking her head for emphasis.

Noah was already comfortably behind the wheel of the car, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel with a long sigh. He would let the trio argue for a few minutes longer before he intervened.

“I insist, lass. Only fitting fer a lady to take the passenger seat an’ not be reduced t’ sittin’ in the back wit a hooligan such as me brother.” Murphy pressed.

Connor rolled his eyes. “Murph, yer bein’ all gentlemanly now, but ye know sittin’ in the back makes ye sick. So after ‘bout an hour ye’ll start complainin’ ‘bout how ye shoulda just sat in the front like we all wanted ye to in the first place. The lady said she doesn’t mind sittin’ back there wit me, so ye should just leave it be.”

“I don’t get fuckin’ sick in the backseat, Connor.” Murphy fumed, his face turning a bright crimson.

“Oh really? Then how come ye always have yer ass parked in the passenger seat when I drove you an’ Rocco, or Da somewhere? How come ye always sat upfront when Rocco drove us somewhere?”

“’Cause I always called shotgun first.” Murphy stated matter-of-factly.

“Ah, that’s such a crock of shit, Murph!” Connor shouted, stepped forward with one arm raised as if to give his brother a shove.

Torrey stepped in front of Murphy before Connor could make contact; a fight would set them back even longer, and they didn’t have all that much time to waste in the first place.

“Calm the fuck down, you two; we’re running late as it is. I don’t need either of you treating me like I’m some dainty little princess, because I’m not. You forget that I’m as much a killer as both of you are, I just happened to be wrapped up in a prettier packaging. But I don’t want, or need, any special treatment just because of that packaging.

“So Murphy, if you want to sit in the front, you’re welcome to. I’d probably just be napping, anyway, so at least you’d be making good use of the passenger seat view. And if you’re still so hung up on making a point about not getting sick in the back, then you can scoot into the backseat with me. But either way, I’m sitting in the back, and that’s final.” And with that Torrey slid into the seat behind the passenger and buckled her seatbelt with an air of resolution that hit both boys in the face.

In the rearview mirror Noah was smiling at Torrey.

“Is that what ye want, Murph, t’ sit in the back with the lass?” Connor asked, blowing out a sigh of annoyance.  

Murphy bit his lip, glancing between Torrey, who looked stoically ahead and paid neither man any real attention, and Connor, who was giving him the classic “are you alright?” look. On the one hand he wanted very much to sit beside Torrey, even if she would just be sleeping, just because that meant that Connor wouldn’t be sitting next to her; he knew that was childish and petty, but he didn’t want Connor to get all of her attention. On the other hand he really did get sick if he sat in the backseat for long periods of time; only sitting in the passenger seat up front kept his stomach from roiling like a stormy sea, and he had no idea why that was.

With a pout Murphy slunk into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him, angrily staring out the window as he continued to chew on his bottom lip.

As Connor made his way around to the other side of the car, Torrey reached up and laid a hand on Murphy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Her touch was warm and caring, and he reveled in it. She wasn’t angry with him for sitting in the passenger seat, nor passing judgment upon him for getting carsick in the backseat; she was simply happy that he had finally made a decision, and that they four of them were all along for this crazy journey together with one less fight in the way.

~ ~ ~

Roughly an hour of driving had indeed lulled Torrey to sleep. Her head at first rested against Connor’s shoulder, and then fell more onto his chest.

Connor wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close, while Murphy’s hands clenched into fists and he turned his head to once more stare out the window.


	11. Far From Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really know what to do with this chapter, so I made it a look into Torrey's psyche, and her hidden fears, for the most part.   
> I didn't really expect her to go as far with Connor as she does toward the end of the chapter. I expected it to be more of a sweet moment. But Torrey isn't much for romance and that sappy love type stuff, so it got a little more heated.   
> Anyway, enjoy.

_Torrey turns frantically in every direction imaginable, searching for a way out of this fresh hell she has somehow entered, but she can’t seem to find an exit. Everything is pitch black save for a small pinpoint of glowing white light off in the distance, but somehow she knows she will never be able to reach that light._

_Rough hands grab her shoulders, her arms, her legs, pulling her down to the floor. She struggles to get away from the grasping fingers, damn near breaking her own in her attempt to get leverage on the hard, slick floor. She doesn’t know where the hands are coming from or who they are attached to, she only knows they are all over her, pulling her clothes off, tearing at her hear, raking against her skin._

_She is terrified, because though she doesn’t know who exactly the hands belong to, she knows the people attached to them will be all the ghosts from her past. But that’s a psychological fear, and there’s another terror filling her; it’s one that plays on primal instinct and her need to survive. She can’t see because everything is dark. She can’t speak, because somehow her tongue has swelled to an enormous size and is taking up too much room in her mouth for her to form words. She can’t fight, and she doesn’t know why that is, and that is somehow the most terrifying thing of all._

_“Torrey.” The whisper comes to her clear as a bell, seeming to press in from all directions at once._

_Her breathing is coming in heavy pants, and she is preparing herself to scream, when suddenly the hands fall away. She is alone again, lying on the floor with her heart pounding in her chest, the darkness enveloping her completely. She attempts to get back on her feet, but two pairs of hands grab her wrists and ankles, locking her in place._

_The creatures crawl out of the floor as if they are the undead, rising from still-fresh graves. They are illuminated so that she can see them all in perfect clarity. Her eyes slowly slide from one figure to the other, each one worse than the one before it, and her eyes glaze over with tears._

_Most of the people here are people she harbors a deep hatred for._

_Nick, her boyfriend through middle school and part of high school, the one she fell too hard and too fast for, the one who lied through the whole relationship and broke her heart. He is taller than she remembers, but his face is the same; his face is that of a cherub, an angel baby filled with the devil’s malice. His skin is the same rich tan color, his hair chestnut brown, his eyes an odd mixture between blue and green, as if they can’t decide which they want to be. His smile, that perfect smile that he used to fake their whole relationship, is practically engraved into his face, because it never falters as he stares at her._

_Jonny, her boyfriend from the last year of high school and the first year of college, the one she never met in real life, the one she believed she would someday meet and marry, the catfish. She met him online during a rough period in her life, and they were best friends before they were a couple, which she thought would make them stronger. She fell for him, too, and he also broke her heart, but it was somehow more heightened than it was with Nick. He is overweight, just as he always had been, his black hair falling down to his shoulders, which is longer than it had been when they were together. His eyes are a piercing shade of brown, though they make her think of how full of shit he’d always been. He is pouty, and needs to shave, and she wants to laugh at him, but for some reason she feels that she should fear him._

_And then there’s Marky, the guy who put her best friend into a coma. She is rather pleased to see that his face is still barely recognizable, never having healed from the damage she did to it. But his fists are up and she knows he will have no qualms about hitting her, especially when she’s so vulnerable as she is now._

_They take a step forward, but then break apart, and Monica steps forward. Torrey’s eyes go wide with shock and confusion, and she can feel tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She struggles to move, or to at least call the girl’s name, but she can do neither; all she can do is sit there helplessly as Monica draws nearer._

_The look on Monica’s face holds many emotions: anger, betrayal, hatred. All of the emotions that had never once been turned in Torrey’s direction were now flying at her like fists, and the tears fell down her cheeks in waterfalls._

_“You let him hurt me, Torrey.” Monica speaks softly, her jaw locked in grim determination._

_Torrey shakes her head. What Marky did wasn’t her fault._

_“You knew how bad it was, but you still didn’t intervene.”_

_Torrey stops mid-shake, her eyes returning to Monica’s. The apparition before her is right; she didn’t do anything until it was too late. She knew Marky would never change, because men like him never do, but still she let it slide._

_“And now you’re running away like a coward, leaving me in that hospital without anyone else to care for me when I finally wake up. If I ever wake up. What kind of friend are you? You go gallivanting off with those two strange men, fuck one of them the same day you come by to visit me, no less? Did you even care about me at all?”_

_Torrey tries to speak, tries to reassure her best friend that she’s still the only person in the world that she truly does care about. She wants to tell Monica that her fucking Connor wasn’t because she didn’t care about her, or because she was happy to be gone, it was because she didn’t want to spend the night curled into a ball of agony and cry herself to sleep. She wants to tell Monica that she had to leave, because even if she had stayed Monica would never have seen her again because she’d have gone to jail. She wants to tell Monica so much, but she still can’t say a word._

_All she can do is cry and shake her head like that’ll actually do anything, as the four figures draw ever closer to her._

~ ~ ~

“Wake up, Red.” Connor was gently shaking Torrey’s shoulder, his voice laced with concern, his brows furrowed.

Torrey blinked her eyes open, thankful that Connor’s beautiful face was the only one in front of her. Her lips curved into a soft smile of pure gratitude, and she sighed in relief.

“Is everythin’ a’right, Red? Yer cryin’.” Connor raised the hand that had been on her shoulder and brushed her tears away with his thumb, his blue eyes filled with nothing but compassion for the girl in his arms.

“I just… had a nightmare is all.” Torrey cuddled closer into Connor’s side.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Torrey resting her head on Connor’s chest as he re-wrapped his arms around her. She reveled in his cautious touch, in his warmth, and in his sweet yet musky scent.

She glanced towards the front seat, noting with some surprise that both Noah and Murphy were gone.

“Where are they?” She asked, not bothering to use their names because Connor would know who she was talking about regardless.

“They’re inside already. We’re at a safe house, some place one a’ Smecker’s friends set us up wit.”

“Who’s Smecker?”

“Paul Smecker is one a’ the finest F.B.I agents Boston’s ever seen, an’ he’s also our ‘man on the inside’.” Connor smirked as he curled his fingers into the air quotes. “He respects what we’re doin’, an’ is more’n willing t’ let us get away with murder, pun intended.”

Torrey nodded to herself. “So where is this particular safe house located?”

“Queens, New York.”

“That’s pretty far from home, huh?”

“Aye.”

Torrey raised her head, locking her eyes on Connor’s. He stared back at her, both of them silent. Somehow Torrey just needed to look at him, to look into those bottomless blue eyes that put the ocean to shame and know the person behind them cared about her in some way. And maybe Connor needed that, too, or needed to show her just how much he cared, because, without breaking their contact, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

Torrey’s eyes slid closed the second their mouths met, either habit or instinct, and gave herself over to him; her lips parted, molded themselves against his, and invited his tongue. He obliged, sliding his tongue across her lips. Her tongue met his and they danced, their lips rising and falling against each other like the tide.

They stayed that way for several minutes until Connor finally pulled back, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. “Sorry, lass, but they’ll be wonderin’ where we are.”

Torrey smiled, back to her old self again. “Is that really why you broke our kiss?” She slid one hand across his thigh, her fingers coming to rest at the bulge growing in his jeans.

Connor tensed under her touch, sucking in a sharp inhale of breath. “S’ just a lil’ too public here ‘n the car, Red.”

“Later then?” Torrey asked, brushing her lips across his cheek, stopping at the corner of his mouth.

Connor moved the centimeter to meet her lips, kissing her passionately once more. “Later. I promise.”


	12. Like Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure the only thing I've got going for this story will be all the sex I've still got planned to come. That seems to be the only kind of plot I've got for this. I had other plans for this story, which I suppose will come about sooner or later, but for now it's probably just going to be a lot of smut.   
> I guess I'm not surprised that no one's reading this, since it actually is pretty shitty.   
> Oh well.   
> If you are reading, then please enjoy.

The safe house was larger than any of them had expected, which was a pleasant surprise to the weary travelers. It had three bedrooms: one for Noah, one for Torrey, and one for the brothers to share. Along with that was an extra room nestled in a back corner of the house that appeared to be used mostly as a study. It was furnished with two large bookcases on either wall, one completely full and the other only partly full, a large desk with an office chair behind it, and a few spare chairs in front of the desk and beside the bookcases.

The kitchen and dining room were open to the world, both of them to the right of the front foyer, and the same went for the living room, which was off to the left. The dining room had a table just big enough for the four of them to sit comfortably around it with their stiff-backed chairs. The kitchen was stocked with enough food to last them about two weeks, and a drying rack stood in place of a dishwasher. The living room had one recliner, one standard armchair, and one long sofa big enough for three people to squeeze onto, two to sit more comfortably, or one to stretch out and lay down if they chose. There was a fireplace in middle of a side wall, but no television or radio were anywhere to be found.

It was perfect for the quartet. There were no traceable landline signals, and it was remote enough to be overlooked by pretty much everyone around. They could come and go as they pleased without fear of others noticing, and were shrouded by several large oak trees that encircled the property. Even the backyard, though quite spacious, was private.

By the time Connor and Torrey entered the house, their bags slung over their shoulders, Noah was locked in his room and Murphy was raiding the kitchen for snacks.

Torrey left Connor’s side and headed into the kitchen, watching as he rifled through the fridge, getting a nice view of his rump as he stooped over to reach the back.

“Find anything good?” She asked, stifling a giggle at Murphy’s slight jump.

“Yeah, I did, actually.” Murphy turned, giving the redhead a triumphant smile.

“Well?” She raised one eyebrow, giving him a smirk in response.

“Strawberries!” Murphy raised the little package of bright red fruits, his face beaming.

Torrey giggled at his enthusiasm, shaking her head slightly as Murphy quickly opened the package, picked up one of the largest red bulbs, and bit it off at the leafy stem. “Give me one, yeah?”

Murphy selected the second biggest strawberry he could find and held it out to her. “Hope it’s not too big for you.”

“Oh, don’t worry; I’ve had bigger things in my mouth.” Torrey turned, giving Connor a conspiratorial wink.

Connor flushed a soft pink color and quickly darted from the room, disappearing down the hallway. A few seconds later the sound of a door slamming could be heard.

Murphy expected Torrey to take the strawberry from him with her fingers, like a normal person, but instead she stepped forward and bit into the strawberry while he was still holding it, never even blinking an eye. She stared up at him, keeping their eyes locked even as she pulled back to chew and swallow the fruit.

“You’ve got some juice on your palm, babe.” Her eyes flickered to a drop of juice that was running from thumb down to his palm, and was just beginning to roll to his wrist. “Let me get that for you.”

Torrey gently gripped Murphy’s wrist and pulled his arm forward, her tongue darting from between her lips to catch the little drop. She followed the juice’s trail from Murphy’s wrist all the way up to his thumb, causing Murphy to blush as bright red as the strawberries in the package he still held.

Torrey ended with a soft peck to Murphy’s thumbnail, then plucked a strawberry from the package as she pulled away.

“You know, what I like to do with strawberries is just take the stems off. Then you can just shove the whole thing in your mouth without having to worry about it.” She spoke at the same time as she did exactly that, using her nails to get a good grip on the pesky stem and pull it from the strawberry.

Once the stem was gone and the little fruit itself was all that was left, Torrey looked up to Murphy’s still stunned face and smiled. “Open up, Murph.”

Murphy did as he was instructed, parting his lips just enough for Torrey to shove the strawberry through them. Somehow that strawberry tasted sweeter than the one he’d had just a moment ago.

“Now you try.” Torrey took the package from Murphy’s hands and offered it to him.

He obediently chose a strawberry and pulled out the stem, leaving just the fruit between his fingers. He looked up at her, his eyes somewhat troubled. Was he supposed to eat this one, too, or did she expect him to feed it to her as she had done for him?

His answer came in the parting of her delicate lips, in the fire raging through her emerald eyes. He didn’t hesitate to push the strawberry past those luscious lips and onto her waiting tongue.

He was about to pull his hand back when she leaned forward just a fraction of a centimeter and caught his index finger between her lips. His movements halted completely and he stared at her once more, shock crossing his features. He could feel her tongue pushing the strawberry to the side of her mouth and into the pocket of her cheek, much like a squirrel would, and then her tongue was tracing the pad of his finger.

Murphy bit his lip, watching as she closed her eyes and sucked more of his finger into her mouth. The clasp on his jeans was starting to make itself very well known to him, and he couldn’t help but wish those lips of hers were wrapped around something other than his finger.

Much too soon she pulled away from him, his finger leaving her mouth with a soft popping sound. She smirked up at him as she finally chewed and swallowed her strawberry, that playful flame still dancing in her eyes.

“Come see me later.” Was all she said before she kissed his cheek and left the room.

~ ~ ~

“Man, when you make a promise you really keep it, huh?” Torrey asked between quick little pants for air.

Connor chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her damn near into his lap. “Aye. It’s what makes me such ‘n honorable man.” He leaned forward, his nose skimming along her throat, his lips following behind with soft kisses.

She sighed in contentment, tilting her head slightly to give him better access. His lips were now trailing over her shoulder, and he stopped to give her a gentle bite. She laughed and ruffled his hair, cuddling closer into him.

“How lucky I was, then, to find a man of honor who will keep the promises he makes.” She moaned softly as his arms tightened around her waist, his touch tingling against her skin. “Can you make me another promise, Connor?”

“Depends on what it is.” He chuckled, kissing further down her arm.

“Promise me you won’t come around my room tonight.”

Connor pulled back, turning the girl in his arms just enough to look into her face. “Why not, lass?”

Torrey bit her lip, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “I asked Murphy to come see me later tonight.”

The realization hit Connor, and his smile seemed to dampen. But he nodded, his lips staying in their same curved-up position though the gesture no longer touched his eyes. “I promise not to bother ye, Red.”

Torrey turned so that she was straddling Connor’s legs, his head tilting back as he looked up at her. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders, her fingers reaching up to gently tangle in the hair at the back of his neck. With her other hand she cupped his jaw, her thumb stroking soothing lines across his cheekbone.

“Please don’t be upset with me, Connor.” She whispered, her eyes seeming to melt from hardened stone into liquid within seconds.

Connor sighed as he looked up into those eyes. He could never be upset with her, especially not over something like this. It wouldn’t be fair to her to try to lay claim to her just because they’d been intimate together first. It wouldn’t be fair to Murphy either, now that he thought about it. That would hurt Murphy, getting pushed out so that they could have some physical relationship together, and Connor would never hurt Murphy if he could help it; he loved Murphy too much to do that.

“M not upset, Red. Wouldn’t be fair of me t’ try an’ keep you two from each other, since ye seem so determined not to leave him outta the equation. Just promise me ye won’t forget about me after you’ve been with him.”

Torrey grinned and pressed a kiss to Connor’s lips, her fiery hair falling down like a waterfall over both of them. “After how well you kept your first promise to me I doubt I could ever forget you, babe.”


	13. Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah for poorly-written smut. I'm not really used to writing male/female smut scenes so  
> Anyway, it was fun to, finally, write Murphy and Torrey's first time together, and I like his character growth from the beginning of the chapter to the end.   
> So may you all enjoy it anyway. All like two of you who are reading.

Three gentle knocks resounded on Torrey’s bedroom door, and she eagerly slid off the bed and bounded across the small space. She took a deep breath and feigned a calm demeanor as she opened the door, smiling when she saw Murphy on the other side. She nodded in such a way that meant “come in”, not wanting to speak and alert Noah to what was going on.

Murphy brushed past her, and she quickly shut the door, taking care to turn the small lock on the handle. When she turned to face him, he was staring at her, his blue eyes wide and hesitant yet still raging with lust.

Torrey was wearing nothing but her panties and a black tank-top that said “ROCK” on it with little skulls; the top didn’t have straps, but rather had what looked like sleeves that had been cut off at the shoulders. The side of the tank-top was falling off of Torrey’s right shoulder, exposing her collar bone and swan-like neck, but she seemed either not to notice or not to care.

“You’re very beautiful.” Murphy mumbled, ducking his head to try and cover the blush now raging through his cheeks.

“Thank you.” Torrey replied, stepping forward and placing a hand on his cheek, making him look at her. “You’re quite a sight, too, babe. Your eyes are even more gorgeous than your brother’s.”

Murphy didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he just gave her a side-long smirk. “Can I kiss you?”

“You can do whatever you want to me, and you never have to ask permission.”

Murphy closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers. He was hesitant at first, as if he were unsure of what he should be doing. He tried to set a gentle rhythm, his lips gliding over hers, and she responded well enough, letting him take the reins.

His kiss was soft, sweet, tender, everything that Connor’s wasn’t. Not that Connor’s kisses weren’t amazing, but his were rougher, needier. But then, Connor was much more confident than Murphy, and he wasn’t exactly afraid to assert himself.

Murphy, though, seemed to need a few gentle nudges in the right direction. So Torrey parted her lips slightly, her tongue darting forward to trace Murphy’s bottom lip. He took the hint, and slowly slid his tongue in her mouth, searching for hers. She twined with him instantly, letting his tongue trace back and forth over hers.

Suddenly his hands were at her hips, his fingers worrying the fabric of her shirt. He was slow to pull the garment off of her, his lips not exactly eager to leave hers, but finally he broke their kiss and lifted the shirt up and off of her.

He tossed the tank-top aside, his eyes fixated on her full breasts. He glanced up, meeting her eyes once more, begging permission without saying as much.

“Murphy, anything; I mean it.” Torrey’s words were hushed, her voice husky, and it drove Murphy wild.

Gently, Murphy lifted the woman and laid her on the bed. He stared at her for a moment, marveling at how beautiful she looked that way, undressed and waiting for him, wanting him, and saw the spark of lustful fire burning through her glowing emerald eyes.

That look was what finally set him off, and Murphy leaned down, his mouth collapsing down on hers once more. She gave back everything he doled out in spades, their passion burning hotter with just this kiss, and then he left her luscious lips to instead trail his own down her neck.

His tongue traced over her jugular vein, and he nipped at her skin. She moaned softly, and he bit her harder, his teeth nibbling at her throat, his lips sucking on her skin. She writhed under him, seeming to push herself into him, and much as he wanted to sit there and suck on her neck all night he still had the rest of her lovely body to ravage.

He left her throat, trailing his lips down over her collar bone to her breast. He paused to tease each of her nipples for a moment before moving even lower. He kissed a slow, heated trail down her stomach, stopping at the hem of her panties. His tongue traced over the fabric, barely touching her skin, and he looked up at her.

His blue eyes were like a raging storm, growing damn near as dark as his hair, and Torrey couldn’t help but smile at how much Murphy wanted her. She laid back on the bed, lifting her hips, and he immediately pulled the silky garment off of her, sliding it down her legs and letting it fall to the floor in a small puddle.

He placed sloppy kisses up her legs, swirling his tongue over the insides of her thighs, teasing her. She bit her lip and fisted the sheets, trying to remain patient, but a quiet whimper escaped her throat. Murphy grinned at that whimper, and he knew he was going in the right direction.

He wanted to worship her, give her body everything it deserved and then some. He wanted to treat her like the goddess she was.

And so he ran his tongue over her slit, his touch feather light, feeling himself stiffen in his jeans even more at the groan that escaped her. He tongued her clit, placing his hands on her hips to keep her steady as she moved under him.

In the back of his mind he could hear Connor’s voice. _Ye’ve got a larger tongue ‘n most guys, Murph. Ye could really please a woman with that tongue if ye wanted to._

Now he wanted to. He moved his tongue down lower, sliding it inside of her, bringing his face forward until he couldn’t go any farther. His lips were on hers, but in a much different way, and he almost laughed out loud at the thought of comparing the two types of kisses. But her moans snapped him back to the present.

He opened his eyes, trying to catch the look on her face. He could see her breasts clearly with how arched her back was, but her head was thrown back. But maybe she wanted to see him, too, because she pushed herself up with the palms of her hands until she was in a sitting position.

God, he looked so sexy like that, his short black hair curling over his forehead and the sides of his face, his blue eyes filled with passion and lust and something else burning just under the surface that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, his face buried in her and his expression showing that he was clearly enjoying his position there. It sent her damn near over the edge to see him like that, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers through his hair and tangle them in the silky strands, holding him in place.

He closed his eyes, a quiet moan vibrating from his lips as she tugged on his hair. He loved to be manhandled a bit when he was going down on someone; nothing extremely forceful or painful, but a little bit of direction, or a light pull on his hair to show him that he was doing well, drove him crazy.

He pulled his tongue back and then quickly drove it into her again, tongue-fucking her in every sense of the term. And that’s when she lost it; her entire body quivered, the hand in his hair tightened its hold, and she breathed out a soft “Murphy” as she came.

The way she said his name. That beautiful way she whispered his name out on a breath of air as quiet and soft as that of angel passing by. It struck something deep inside of him, touching his heart in a way that only Connor had been able to before, but for some reason he didn’t mind that.

Murphy undressed while Torrey recovered, her breathing coming in heavy gasps for a few moments before she finally managed to calm down. He climbed onto the bed beside her, watching the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing returned to normal.

She looked up at him, her emerald eyes shining, her smile as bright as the sun. In just a few seconds she had flipped up and was on top of him, straddling his legs. The tip of his cock was pressed right up against her wetness, and he rolled his hips, trying to push up into her. She lifted herself slightly, giving him a playful smirk as he tried again to push up into her.

“Yer gonna drive me insane, lass.” Murphy huffed, rolling his eyes at her.

Torrey grinned and smoothed his hair back, her fingers raking through the tendrils once more. “Maybe that’s what I want. You’ll fuck me harder if you’re wound up to the breaking point.”

“Oh, ye want it hard, is that it? That how Connor gives it to ye?” Murphy’s eyes darkened, and for a moment she thought that maybe she had upset him. But then he smiled, something mischievous and evil. “Well, I’ll fuck ye harder ‘n better than ye’ve ever been fucked in yer life; make ye forget all about Connor.”

And with that he gripped her hips, his nails digging into her skin with that perfect bite of pain that she sometimes enjoyed, and pulled her down roughly as he thrust up into her. Her quiet cry of pleasure was music to his ears, and he repeated the action, rolling their hips fluidly.

Torrey gripped the hair at the back of Murphy’s head, pulling him back so that she could lock their lips together; it would keep both of their cries muffled, which would hopefully ensure that neither of the two men sleeping in other rooms would wake.

She let him move her as he pleased, moaning into his mouth every time he thrust into her again. Her other arm wrapped around his shoulders, her nails raking across his back and causing him to groan low in his throat. She adapted to how he rolled his hips, rocking hers in time to meet him each time.

Murphy, ever considerate of whoever his partner was, slid a hand down between their bodies and stroked his thumb over her clit. Torrey whimpered against his lips, her own barely even able to kiss him now. Her mouth went slack against his, her face contorting beautifully as she tried to hold in a cry, opting to simply whimper again.

Murphy could tell she was close to coming again, and he only needed one more thing to push him over that edge with her. He pulled his mouth away from hers, leaning in close to her ear and whispering, “Say me name, lass.”

“Murphy,” She said it instantly, in that same breathy voice from before. She repeated his name again and again, each one getting slightly louder until she came and damn near shouted it; she had to cut herself off by biting his shoulder at the last minute.

They came together, their bodies molded into one. Torrey slumped into Murphy, and he eagerly wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him. He breathed in her sweet scent, turning his face so that he could feel her red hair against his cheeks, tightening his arms around her.

Finally, she straightened herself enough to be able to look at him once again. Their eyes locked, and she smiled as she smoothed his hair back again, this time in a much more tender manner. She cupped his jaw with her other hand, stroking her thumb over his cheek; his face was fuller than Connor’s, and his cheekbones were less pronounced, but she liked that about him.

She stared at Murphy, taking in all the ways he was different from his brother. He was paler than Connor, but his hair was darker, and he had that little beauty mark above his mouth. His nose was a bit more rounded, a bit cuter, and his eyes were a deeper shade of blue.

But they were different in subtler ways than just looks, too. Connor had been much more confident during their first time; he hadn’t been hesitant to touch her wherever he pleased, nor did he bother to ask permission before kissing her, even in front of his brother and father. But Murphy was more voracious when he finally got into things, unafraid to grip her with his nails and bite her, unafraid to mark her and show the world that he had owned her for a night.

With Connor it felt like a friends-with-benefits thing, but with Murphy it felt like making love, and she wondered how that would affect them later on. But she pushed the thoughts from her mind, basking in the afterglow of a good fuck instead.

Torrey slid off of Murphy’s lap and cuddled into his side instead. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Aye.” Murphy nodded once and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, smiling as she laid her head on his chest.

“Thank you.”

Murphy leaned down and kissed her hair as she closed her eyes, taking a moment to run his fingers through the strands and play with the fire.

“Oíche mhaith, mo aingeal.” He whispered to her in his native tongue from Ireland.  

_Good night, my angel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to use Google Translate for Murphy's last line. I translated from English to Irish, and if the wording's not exactly right, well now you know why.


	14. Then The Morning Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to wish a happy new year to the two or three people actually reading this story. Thanks for your continued support.   
> Secondly, I feel like this story is getting really shitty, or cheesy, or both. But I'll press on because I have no other choice and nothing better to do.   
> Thirdly, this chapter took a completely different turn than what I originally envisioned, but I guess I'm happy with it.   
> So enjoy.

Murphy woke to sunlight hitting his closed eyelids, and the sounds of a bird chirping happily somewhere in the distance. He blinked his eyes open as he came into full awareness, and he immediately looked to his side, making sure Torrey was still beside him.

The redhead was still nestled in slumber, turned on her side facing the window, though her face bore the countenance of someone in a nightmare. Murphy didn’t know what to do in this situation. Should he wake her, or let her sleep? Connor would have known what to do. Connor probably would have just woken her right away; either that or he would have wrapped an arm around her, whispered sweet nothings in her ear, see if that helped. But Murphy was more hesitant than Connor. He didn’t want to wake her up, because he figured she’d be mad at him for making her lose sleep. So he sat there, biting his lip, wishing he could something to help her.

He stared down at her, taking in how beautiful she looked with the sun filtering over her the way it was now. Her skin was smooth like porcelain, not as pale as his but not as tan as Connor; her hair burned bright in the natural light, and he could swear the strands had really turned into flames which were now engulfing her pillow and flowing over her back. He loved her hair, and he couldn’t keep himself from reaching down and gently running his fingers over the loose tendrils.

His mind played through the events of the night before, and he smiled at the memories. She had been perfect, everything he ever needed or wanted, and he didn’t feel guilty after they’d finished, as he often did with Connor.

Connor. Murphy loved Connor with his entire being, his whole heart and soul and then some, and he could never refuse Connor anything he wanted. But something in the back of his mind always remembered just how wrong it was for them to be together. They were brothers, twins even, and they weren’t supposed to be intimate with each other in the ways that they were.

Murphy didn’t really care about the taboo they’d entered into, but when they finished and laid together, curling into the warmth of the other and absorbing all the love and adoration the other was putting forth, Murphy would feel almost like he was tainted. He’d think to himself _we’re brothers; why are we doing this?_ , but then he’d stare at Connor’s beautiful face, his eyes taking in the special smile Connor used only with him, and he would brush those feelings aside.

Because as wrong as it was, Murphy could never give Connor up.

That didn’t mean he didn’t sometimes feel weird about their situation, though. But it wasn’t that way with Torrey, because he had no attachments to her prior to the night before. She was just another person passing through their lives, a little bit like Rocco, though in a much prettier package.

But that wasn’t entirely true. She wasn’t like Rocco, save for the face that she had become their new apprentice to their mission. And it wasn’t just the fact that she was female and looked nothing like Rocco that made her different; there was something else, too, something Murphy couldn’t quite put his finger on. He cared for her in a way that differed from how he’d cared for Rocco.

Rocco was a friend, someone almost as close as a brother to Murphy, and Murphy loved him in that way. Torrey was something else, something special; if Murphy didn’t know better he’d say he was in love with the girl beside him.

Murphy’s eyes widened as that thought crossed his mind. He looked down at Torrey once more, seeing her with new eyes. Was he in love with her? They’d fucked once, and it had been pretty damn great, but that was all. How could he love someone he barely knew and had only slept with once?

It was something in her eyes. There was a spark there, ever since the first time he saw her, something he wanted to explore. Some would say it was “love at first sight”, but Murphy didn’t believe in that kind of bullshit. Even so, there was an attraction to her, something deeper than just sex. Murphy didn’t want to just fuck her at night and then pretend they were just business acquaintances during the day; he wanted to get to know her, every part of her.

Murphy wanted to find out everything about her past, wanted to hear her hopes for the future, wanted to be beside her through the entirety of her present. He wanted to know what scared her, what made her happy, what made her cry, what made her angry, all of it. He wanted to see who she was, right down to her core, and love her all the more for being that person. Murphy wanted to love Torrey, and have Torrey love him back.

He bit his lip as his eyes roved over the parts of her body that were exposed to him, taking every little detail into account: the freckles that dotted her shoulders and peppered her arms, her almost blond eyebrows, the way the strands of hair closest to her face were shot through with gold.

He trailed his gaze across her right shoulder and down that arm, crossing over to where her two hands rested beside each other, and then stopped when he came to her left wrist. Her arm was stretched out beneath her, her fingertips clearing the bed, and the sunlight was hitting her wrist at such an angle that he could just make out the slightly raised scars that resided there. He could see dozens of them, some of them small and short, some of them long, running from one side of her wrist to the other.

As he stared at the scars he wondered just what had upset her enough to take a blade to her skin, wondered if those long marks were from suicide attempts.

Without thinking he reached over Torrey, his fingertips gently brushing against her wrist. He smoothed his thumb over a few of the longest marks a few times, his thumbnail grazing her skin.

Suddenly Torrey snatched her arm away, trying to hide her wrist from view. She turned onto her back and pulled herself into a sitting position, knocking Murphy back onto his side of the bed in the process.

Murphy stared at her, the expression on her face stunning him into silence. She was staring at him, her eyes as hard as the gems they resembled, the tears she was trying to hold in pooling at the brim of her lower lids. She glared at him, her eyes sparking fury, her lips pressed into a hard line.

“Torrey, I…” He mumbled, unsure of what to say to make things better. He averted his eyes from hers, but her stare still pierced through him, and he could swear his chest was burning because of it.

“What the fuck were you doing, Murphy?” She asked, her words coming out flat and monotone as she tried to control herself.

“Was just lookin’ at ye, ‘cause ye looked so beautiful ‘n the sunlight, an’ I happened to see yer wrist.” Murphy whispered.

Torrey sighed; she knew what came next. He would tell her she was a freak, or an idiot, tell her she should value her life more, probably give her some lecture about God’s opinion on suicide. He knew now that she was damaged goods, and he wouldn’t even want to look at her anymore.

“I think you should leave, Murphy.” She said, pulling the sheets up tighter around herself.

Murphy looked up at her, but she’d already averted her eyes; she was now staring at the sheets she’d pulled to her chest. He didn’t move to leave, though, because even though he knew she wanted him to, he also knew that wasn’t the right thing to do in this situation.

Slowly, he crawled towards her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. “Do ye think ‘m gonna judge ye, lass?”

Torrey couldn’t speak, the sobs in her throat cutting off her words. The tears flowed from her eyes, and she couldn’t resist pressing her face into Murphy’s chest for comfort.

He took that gesture for the answer it was: yes.

“Well, ‘m not gonna judge ye. Never would judge ye, Tor, fer anythin’. I’ve done enough in me own life, made enough bad decisions, that I couldn’t ever say a word against ye; wouldn’t want to anyway.

“An’ I won’t pry ‘bout ‘em, if ye don’t wanna say anything about ‘em t’me. But I was wonderin’ how many of ‘em are from suicide attempts, an’ how many were just for release. That’s what I was thinkin’ when I was touchin’ yer wrist. An’ I was askin’ m’self how such a lovely girl could hate herself or her life enough t’ wanna do that t’ herself.” Murphy stroked her hair as he spoke, tilting his face downward to press kisses against her head.

Torrey took a deep, shuddering breath, making sure her voice was under control, before she told Murphy her story. “I was a stupid kid back then. I thought death would be better than the shitty life I had to go through. I hated my parents, and I thought they hated me. I didn’t have many friends; in fact, it was only Monica back then. And everything seemed to just be going downhill for me.

“So one night when everyone was asleep I broke apart a shaving razor and cut myself way too many times. Only problem was the blade was too small and dull to actually cut anything useful. I was getting frustrated, wondering why I wasn’t dead yet, and started crying. And I guess I was crying too loudly, because next thing I know my mom’s in my room, clutching me to her chest and crying with me.

“Long story short my parents got me the help I needed, and Monica slapped some sense into me, and I realized my life was worth living. And I realize it even more now, because if I’d died that night I never would have met you, or Connor.”

The gravity of her last statement slapped Murphy right in the face, and he realized that in some way Torrey did love him, and Connor. They had all moved too fast, and seemed to have fallen too hard, but it felt right. Murphy felt it, and now he knew Torrey felt it, too.

“M sorry ye had such a bad time back then, lass. But I’m so glad yer here now. We ain’t known each other for more’n a few days, but there’s just… somethin’ special ‘bout ye. Feels like I’ve known ye damn near forever.”

Murphy looked down at the same time Torrey looked up, their eyes locking on one another and their gazes holding steady. They leaned in at the same time, their lips forcefully crashing down on each other and molding into one being.

The kiss was frantic and passionate, but it was also tender and caring. Something changed in both of them with that kiss, something that would alter them completely for the rest of their lives.


	15. When You See Me Coming Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of like a continuation of the previous one, since it happens immediately afterwards. So the title is supposed to represent the way Murphy handled Torrey getting depressed about her scars, and it's kind of like a pick-me-up for them both after that touching moment. Or at least that's how it was in my head; that probably doesn't make much sense now that I'm thinking about it.   
> But I don't really care. I like the title.   
> So please enjoy.

Murphy wrapped his arms around Torrey’s waist and lower back, pulling her closer to him until their chests were touching. He raised one hand and traced a finger down her spine, chuckling to himself when she shivered slightly. Her skin felt even smoother than it had the night before, and the sunlight filtering through the curtains was hitting her perfectly, making her look like an angel sent from Heaven just for him.

They were still alone, still together. There was no Connor to infiltrate himself and lay claim to either of them. There was no Noah to give them stern looks or judge them silently with his eyes. There was just them, skin to skin, and it was more than perfect.

Torrey encircled Murphy’s shoulders, her position causing him to have to look up slightly to see her face. He stared up at her, taking in her beauty. There was a faint birthmark over her left eyebrow, something he wouldn’t have been able to see if not for the sunlight falling over her just right. Her eyes were as green as the grass back home in Ireland, and they shined like the emerald rings he used to see in the jewelry shop a few miles down from his house. Her cheeks were soft and flushed bright pink, her lips parted in such a way that made her look both sultry and needful, almost as if she needed Murphy to kiss her.

And he did just that, his tongue gliding across her bottom lip the second their mouths met. Her tongue came forward to meet his, and he snatched it between his lips, sucking it into his mouth. Torrey moaned softly as Murphy playfully nipped at her tongue before releasing her to connect their mouths once more.

Murphy gently pushed Torrey’s legs further apart with his knees, one hand sliding down to grip her ass and pull her hips forward until she was just an inch above his cock. He let his mouth leave hers and trail down her jaw, nipping at her skin until he finally latched onto her neck. He would properly ravage her throat this time, bite her while he thrust hard into her, make her have to bite him back to control her screams again.

He didn’t want her on top this time; he wanted to dominate her, make her writhe under him as she had done with Connor when he’d accidentally walked in on them. He wanted to see her back arch against the sheets, wanted to clearly see her expression in the morning light when she came undone.

Still gripping her tightly he shifted himself, gaining leverage by more firmly pushing his knees into the mattress. He unwound one arm from around her body to hold himself up as he laid her down; with his other hand he lifted her hips upward, and then quickly thrust into her, a ragged groan escaping his lips.

She breathed out a quiet gasp and then quickly bit down on her bottom lip, a whimper taking the place of a moan. She planted her feet on the bed, pushing her body upward to meet him, helping him push deeper into her.

Murphy closed his eyes and rested on his forearm, his fingers curling into the loose strands of her hair that he could reach. He leaned down, pressing their lips together once again, moaning into her mouth as he rotated his hips forward and back, grinding into her heat.

Torrey sighed in contentment as their lips crashed together, not hesitating to let her tongue slide out of her mouth and twine with his. She let her hands rove over his body, touching every inch of skin that she possibly could, committing his every contour to memory. His muscles were taut under his skin, and every touch they shared tingled like a live wire.

Much too soon for Torrey’s liking, Murphy pulled back, raising onto his knees. He gripped her hips with one hand, his other hand resting between her hip and her thigh, his thumb stretching out to roughly stroke over her clit. He pumped into her, watching her every movement.

Torrey’s back arched and she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to focus on anything but the pleasure radiating through her body. She was moaning much too loud, and she knew that, but she couldn’t seem to control herself anymore. The hand that had been stroking her clit was now clamped over her mouth, keeping her quiet.

“Bite me if ye have to, lass; ye must try to keep it down.” Murphy was smirking at her, his bangs swaying with his thrusts.

She obliged, biting down hard into the side of his hand. He groaned out a curse, and she tasted blood in her mouth, but he made no move to pull his hand back, and she didn’t make her bite any gentler; Murphy enjoyed the pain and Torrey enjoyed the rich taste of his blood, a kink she had often kept hidden because she didn’t want to be labeled a freak or a vampire-wannabe.

Murphy removed his other hand from her hip, pushing her lower body slowly back onto the bed as he readjusted himself. He was now practically on top of her, though neither of them much minded that, continuing to push his hips back and forth into and out of her, his free hand toying her clit.

That made her bite down on him even harder, and he cursed again, somewhat louder this time. He actually shivered when her tongue swept over the injury, catching the blood spilling around her teeth; he watched her throat move as she swallowed it, her eyes opening to stare at him in a way that would have been terrifying if it wasn’t so arousing.

That’s when Murphy lost it; he thrust into her roughly a few more times before he came, clenching his jaw to keep his groan at a low volume. He rubbed her clit frantically, pressing down on it as he rolled it under his thumb, and then her teeth eased back from his flesh and a quiet cry emanated from her throat.

He watched her as she came, taking note of how her eyes clenched shut and her brows knit together, taking note of how beautiful she looked. He pulled out and rested on his side next to her, stroking one hand through her hair as he removed his other from her mouth to examine the damage.

Her teeth hadn’t pierced him too deep, but he’d definitely have marks for a week or so, and he’d have to bandage his hand up to keep Connor or Da from asking too many questions about the injury. His blood was still flowing, droplets trickling slowly down the side of his hand toward his wrist.

Without a word, Torrey reached over and gripped his wrist, pulling his hand back to her mouth; her tongue darted from her mouth and she caught the blood droplets, tracing them all the way up to their origin point before she pulled back, as she had done with the strawberry juice the day before.

“Sorry about your hand, Murphy.” She whispered the apology, her cheeks flaming as she released his wrist, her eyes not meeting his.

“Don’t be sorry, lass; I like it when things get a lil’ painful, when a bit o’ blood flows.” He cupped her chin gently between his fingers, turning her face so that she’d have to look at him, and then he grinned down at her.

He leaned down, pecking a quick kiss to her lips, before he released her. His eyes left hers, trailing down the rest of her body one last time, and then he turned and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He left her on the mattress as he pulled his clothes back on, getting ready for the new day.

Torrey moved into a sitting position, watching him dress. “What are you going to tell Connor and Noah happened to your hand?”

“I don’t know yet. What do ye think I should tell ‘em?” Murphy turned to look at her, cocking his head to the side.

Torrey giggled at how cute he looked like that, then shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s one of those things that’s pretty hard to explain away if you’re trying to come up with a suitable lie. I guess it doesn’t really matter; I’m sure they know what we were up to, or at least Connor does.”

“Ye really want me tellin’ ‘em that ye bit me while we were fuckin’ an’ then ye drank my blood?”

Torrey’s cheeks flamed once more, and she quickly looked down to the bed. “Well, maybe not.”

Murphy chuckled. “Don’t worry, lass, I’ll think of somethin’.”

And then he darted forward, pressing his lips lightly to her cheek, before he slipped out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok yeah, Torrey kind of has a blood kink, and I must admit that I do, too (because Torrey is supposed to be me, but with a different name and better body/sex appeal). Probably a little weird, but whatever, this is just a fun fictional story. Don't get all uppity on me about it.


	16. Waters Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't that great, I'll admit it right now. I just didn't really know where to go with it, so I was pretty much winging things the whole time. It'll get better during the next chapter, and hopefully onward, as well.   
> So even though it's not very good, and I feel like it's kind of choppy, I hope you enjoy it anyway.

The brothers broke apart the instant they heard one of the bedroom doors open, Murphy hastily retracting his tongue back into his own mouth. It had been down Connor’s throat just seconds before, getting them both a little too acquainted with the clasps on their jeans.

Murphy had darted into the bathroom to bandage his hand the instant he left Torrey’s room, thankful that the rest of the house appeared to still be deserted, the bedroom doors all firmly shut. He concentrated first on cleaning and wrapping his wound, all the while trying to think up a suitable excuse. He could break something in Torrey’s room, say he got too riled and put his fist through it, but the bandages weren’t in the right place for that sort of thing, and it’d be rude to break things in a house that wasn’t his.

Murphy didn’t want to tell Connor that things had gotten as rough as they had with the little ginger, because Connor might be upset with Torrey for hurting him. Either that or Connor would be jealous that she hadn’t done the same to him, even though he wasn’t really into that type of rough stuff. In any case, it was a bad situation to try to be explaining, and Murphy wanted no part of it.

Da would ask questions, too, and Murphy had no clue where to even begin with him. How could he possibly look his father in the eye and say he was fucking Torrey in secret? Da would judge him, probably give him a lecture, and things would just be so much more awkward between them.

Murphy looked up into the mirror, staring into his own wide blue eyes. He saw the panic bouncing in them and tried to calm himself, knowing that neither Connor nor Da would let him out of their sight without finding out what was bothering him. He was just so bad at lying, especially when he really, really _needed_ to lie.

When he finally exited the bathroom Connor was in the kitchen pulling out the fixings for omelets while he whistled to himself. He was so cheery, so oblivious of all that had transpired between Torrey and his brother, and Murphy almost ran back into the bathroom to hide. But then Connor turned, either on instinct or by coincidence, his eyes locking onto Murphy’s, and he smiled, that beautiful sun-bright smile that lit up Murphy’s heart and soul.

Murphy damn near sprinted over to Connor, wrapping his arms tightly around his twin and pulling him close, his mouth immediately latching onto Connor’s. His kiss was urgent, needy, rough, and Connor could swear he tasted guilt on his brother’s tongue as it pushed against his own.

Murphy cupped the back of Connor’s neck, holding him in place as their mouths moved together, using his other arm to slide across Connor’s lower back and pull them flush against each other. Their lips moved in perfect synchronization, Connor moaning softly into Murphy’s mouth, which just made Murphy kiss him that much more eagerly. Their teeth knocked against each other, but neither of them cared, not when Murphy was taking the reins and being so passionate; it was a side of himself that he rarely showed, rarely needed to show, and Connor loved when it came out.

But as much as Connor loved the kiss, he knew his brother. Murphy only acted like this when something was bothering him, something he didn’t know how to talk about. So Murphy would act, would release his anger, fear, pain, confusion, and everything else on his brother; he would pour himself into his twin without speaking, and Connor would absorb all of it.

Murphy would get rough sometimes when he was like this. Sometimes he hit Connor, as if they were fighting instead of fucking. Sometimes he would bite Connor, or rake his nails down Connor’s back hard enough to bleed. Always he fisted Connor’s hair tightly in between his fingers, damn near pulling out the strands as he did so. And Connor loved every fucking minute of it.

That’s what would come next. Breakfast was already completely forgotten, and it had clearly never been on Murphy’s mind in the first place. Murphy was already lifting Connor’s shirt, his fingers touching every piece of exposed skin they could as he pushed Connor back against one of the counters.

But then they both heard the turn of a knob, the creak of a door. Murphy shoved away from Connor forcefully, flying across the kitchen almost at the speed of light. He leaned against the fridge as he looked at Connor, trying to make it look like they were just talking quietly; Connor got the hint and relaxed his position against the counter.

They both looked up as Torrey bounded over to them, a soft smile gracing her features. Both boys couldn’t help but smile back at her, their eyes taking in her much-too-large black tank-top from the night before and her pair of tiny denim shorts that went only about midway down her thigh.

“Mornin’, boys. What’s for breakfast?” She asked, raising her eyes to Murphy’s and sharing a knowing look with him as she shooed him out of the way.

“Was just ‘bout t’ make me world-famous omelets. Ye want one, Red?” Connor asked, watching her bend slightly over to grab the orange juice from the bottom shelf of the fridge.

“Sure, I’d love one.” She grinned up at him as she set the bottle of orange juice down on the counter, turning her attention to the freezer.

She came away with a large, unopened bottle of vodka, her grin widening as she set it beside the juice. “All right, now we’ve got a party. Who wants a Russian mimosa?”

Connor turned toward the cupboard behind him, pulling out three glasses and handing them over to Torrey. Her fingers grazed his hand as she took them from him, making his skin tingle.

Torrey paid no attention to the brothers as she mixed the drinks. They looked up at one another, locking eyes once more. Murphy’s eyes held the pent up lust and passion he’d been trying to release before Torrey had come out.

Connor rose his brows just slightly, a question: _Later?_

Murphy nodded, an answer: _Later._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome. Kudos are nice. The same blah blah I always put here.


End file.
